


Love’s Cycle – Ascendancy

by kafreses



Series: Love's Cycles [3]
Category: Glee, klaine - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2020-07-31 11:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 155,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20114455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kafreses/pseuds/kafreses
Summary: The crunching of bones sets the world on end and raging emotion unravels the glue holding an eternal love together. Confronted by a horrific reality, Blaine and Kurt struggle with themselves and an ever-changing world. Dreams can come true, only if the hateful messenger called doubt can be overcome.





	1. Remembered By A Tear

I close my eyes and dream,  
for a moment he is there,  
beauty and peace.

I long to feel him,  
to hold,  
to caress.

Yet he is but a dream,  
a figment of a memory,  
a ghost.

He had been a friend,  
we had shared many laughs,  
fought a few battles.

All these years we have spent together,  
sharing a special love,  
and now a feather cast into the wind draws away.

He was more than a friend,  
he was family,  
he was life.

Now he is but a dream,  
Remembered by a tear,  
and a lonely smile.


	2. Into The Darkness

It hurt more than the sharp aches crushing all sense of a fragile humanity. The wound lay open and raw, spewing the remorse of a lifetime like festering pus. The shattering of the body supplanted the agony of shatter sentiment. Survival kicked in shrinking the screams of a dumbfounded consciousness and insurmountable emotional pain until they fit into a small corner the mind.

For an old man, the horror of the most vivid recollections made it hard to inhale. Everything felt disjointed as if the cruelty of his situation laughed at him increasing the sharpness in his chest and back. He hoped he would never relive those hard days again, and here it stared him in the face like some sour joke. Every word, every raised tone echoed in his head sewing razor blades into his heart. For a second, he thought the pump deep inside his chest would fail, but karma had a sick sense of humour. The terrifying discomfort of twisting limbs dashed against the hood of a car, turned everything inside out.

The shuddered with the short bursts of air racing into his lungs. Each breath held disgusting thoughts and untold torture he wished he would have forgotten. No, he did not want to go to there, but the more he rallied against it, the more he felt, saw and even smelt. Kurt’s scent followed him out into the hall haunting and beguiling. The sound of his voice calling to him, made his feet feel heavy and his rage made him determined. The crushing pain of snapping of bones sounded like crinkling pops left him feeling weightless. Then the body crumbled into something and the darkness took him to some place he feared to describe.

Squeezing his eyes tight against the memory, they felt squishy. People who had near death experiences spoke of reliving their lives, but did it have to be so hard. The fluff and angst of breakups did not compare to this travesty. It felt like an electrical storm in his torso, but, then, something rustled his thin, white hair. Some aspect of his existence noticed a figure cloaked in misty robes sitting at a table sipping on a cup of tea. A cold and unearthly quaking rolled through an aching old back and as if he existed in two places at once. The mind wrote if off as some figment of a failing imagination, but sentiments felt staggering reality of large cards dancing in the breeze. Each had rounded edges and brightly painted images of people and things. Drifting out of the ethereal mists, they settled around the feet of a puzzled man. Hazel eyes slowly peered down the length of a body to see it overlaid with dozens of translucent forms with the same hazel eyes. Seventy-four placards became lost in shades of grey leaving four brightly coloured cards to reflect the light.

A man, with ruffles at the end of his sleeves picked up one of the beautiful, hand painted cards placing it on a polished tabletop. The light of a dozen candles flicked off a crystal goblet half filled with red liquid with a soiled handkerchief crunched up beside it. Staring at the elegant design, a man who died nearly two centuries ago shed a tear. Likewise, a frail gentleman nearing the end of his life and his younger self, felt water roll down their cheeks. The three splashed onto the three of swords and the upheaval of unmerciful suffering and distress came face-to-face with pining desire tapped within awful grief. The emotion of regret and utter sadness touched everyone without discrimination or forethought. Some would soldier on while others collapse into the mire of self-pity and recrimination.

Like leaves shimmering in the wind, and the cloaked individual look up revealing a red haze within the shadows of is cowl. Listening whispering words pressed in on sorrow like haunting ghosts. “Don’t, my love.”

Something lingered close and soft hair brushed against sensitive skin, causing longing to wrench the chest. Unlike the howling of primal urges spilled into a shivering mind, as the voice rolled through the fog like the noise of a distant train engine. The low thumping hum rose and fell like the beating of the heart.

“Where are you?” A mind grasped with sorrow barely recognized the tone of the melancholy voice.

Lights went on and off, leaving the impression if someone came close and then left again. A familiar scent drifted on the air circulation system as vague instances of clarity replied with punctuated sobs. Someone held him and then rolled away like waves on the beach.

“I lost you.” Ethereal strands carried the tones of a would forever remember.

The words cycled like a skipping record driving spikes through the heart. Long moments of static and then the words repeated themselves within intermittent blimps of calm and shacking thunderclaps. These moments of peace seemed out of place within the turmoil of traumatized emotions. Here grieving folded into a soothing essence before it carelessly crumbled away as if someone played a nasty game.

The voice returned, stretching through time touch him in a way no one else could. “No, my love.”

Flesh touched flesh with an eerie lack of substance and a man cried in the darkness wrenching the muscle in at the center of the chest. The pounding of a heart felt subtle movement tracing along the skin as if to pacify.

“I have always loved you.” The word drifted off into somewhere no living thing could not follow.

Fingers snatched at layers of thin paper smashing it down on the table beside another. Vacant, red rimmed eyes stared at the five of cups and then rolled to the left. A rush of harsh air passed over the lips as maleficence tickled fragile heartstrings scattering sentiment. Spilling into the abyss of dark shades of gray, the numbing torrents of the mind dissolved into ambivalence. Voices rose in lamenting muse as the heart sank into a place no living person should go.

A foot scuffs at the ground and the mists part showing colour. Trembling fingers pick it up and lay the card beside the other and then he leans back. Two men separated by decades gasped because judgment started them in the face. The card rippled on the breeze twisting the reality of harsh emotion. Bright colours shifted allowing the shapeless monster stalking the depths of the soul giving it dominion. Responsibility, misjudged, misplaced or forgotten deeds stumbled into the playfulness of gnawing instability where dreams dissolved. The events surrounding the fall leached into the soul corrupting, while the tormenting laughter of the beast rips away at the last traces of sanity.

Light in the gloom offered awareness where mangled emotion swirled within conscious thought. Somehow, some part of the human essence struggled free to smell of freshly lit candles. A happy memory lifted the heart into a moment of rationality where the rhythmic thumping in the chest slowly became phrases:

Reflections of perception melting into the path of understanding.

Reflections of intention blooming with cognitive rationalization of right from wrong.

Reflections of the tongue governs the process of thought, bringing ethical conduct.

Reflections of one’s choices as expressions of the deeds of the heart.

Reflections of sustainable life harmonize righteous restraint with legality and peace.

Reflections of exertion finds itself achieved through the toil of a selfish act.

Reflections of watchfulness and the realization of the conscious perfection of the mind.

Reflections of attentiveness enriching the natural state, providing the path to enlightenment.

Reflections of being protects all beings, for all things are alive.

Reflections of the physical self upholding the body while illuminating its failings.

Reflections of the soul rooted in the journey culminating in the eternal existence of a faulted body.

Reflections of the ego foretelling the weakness of life to be the key to peace and the final truth.

The words rolled away alike feather floating on air. In time each fell, touching blackened cardboard giving them a tiny speak of hope in the form of a light, incandescent shimmering. The mind grappled with a subtle reality as each phrase became soft vibrations of sound. The music of the soul caressed as the mirrors of sentiment echoed within his mind like the dying ripples left by a pebble dropped into a still pond. Once, he thought he would find redemption in in logic, and now he sensed the virtues of a calm mind where cosmic tones held sway.

Unfortunately, the peace never lasted as external influences jarred the soul back to that place where the hurt remained. Between the pings of guilt and the certainty of his ailing heart, old Blaine recalled the physical agony and hurried voices accompanied by a sharp poke of the skin. Darkness fell like the last curtain call and he liked it. Time touched him only when the blackness moved into the shades of gray where delusional reality refuted the pain infesting the heart. The ego screamed in despair as heartfelt longing stretched the emotion and need. Conflicting sentiment clashed and then flushed away with a hint of motion manipulated torn muscle and bone. A faint memory of yelling etched a terrible scar within the mind and then cool liquids numbing him. Drifting again, a tender touch soothed, followed by terror, anger, lose and betrayal. Two young men sat at a table on a dark rainy night. One tried to hold back tears and the other told said the wedding would never happen. Vanquished hope swirled away into the unbelievable as life crumbled into the pit of remorse.

When awareness returned, warmth gripped the heart coating the hurt with tender thoughts. Dream or reality, a tear rolled from a closed eye and onto something soft. For a moment the vast clouds parted shining light on a place where love triumphed. The heart rose in the chest following a happy path until it all splashed into a low growl. The pumping vessel thrashed and again, and he heard beeping. Feet padded on a hard floor and he thought he heard muffled words. A few moments later he slipped back into the abyss.

For a time, everything around him sounded like rain drumming on a barrel. Both irritating and soothing, the mind struggled to grip at reality. Floating in a place the living rarely recognized, he saw things within the ever-changing mists. Two men with their hearts filled with deep longing, rested on a hillside by side looking up at the clouds. A man in shining armour sat upon a horse draped in colour cloth staring out at the crowded stands. His eyes searched the audience until hazel eventually found blue. Elsewhere, two peasants worked a field under the hot sun laughing at the usual jokes. A couple of boys enjoyed a moment of play in the fertile waters of the mighty Nile oblivious to the tower structure rising on its banks. Reality had no meaning as sparse images of exacting couples folded in upon themselves creating a lullaby.

Crashing agony threw it all into the trash and the beeping magnified itself within a gonging sound off in the distance. A woman called out and soon something clattered next to him. Someone grabbed him tipping his head back and shoving something down his throat. The body gyrated and the curtain pulled shut immersing him in the blessing of the darkness once more.

The feeling of a finger tracing across his skin, drew him out of the fog. Finding it hard to swallow, panic stuck and the beeping returned. Hurried foot falls drew close and, again, the head went back followed by the choking feeling of something being removed from his throat. For a few seconds he coughed and then someone shown a light in his eyes virtually blinding him. Too weak to fight the person holding them open, he thanked the feeling of the long breaths before the gloom took the pain away.

The physical form twitched when something pulled at his arm and then turbulent emotion spiraled away into the darkness. A sweet aroma drew wild sentiment in a completely different direction. For a moment he felt the everlasting love and the warmth of the womb as if he swayed ever so gently with the motions of his mother. Fears, doubts and even anger drained away surrounding him with a sense of home.

Eyes flickered, and he involuntarily shifted away from the brightness. Anguish beyond compare exploded in his chest when he heard an excited voice. The body jerked and then a hand touched his arm and the smelt familiar shampoo. Drawing a deep, haggard breath, the thumping in his chest rose in his neck as he moaned, “Mom?”

Fingers brush his face carrying the smell of strawberry. In a low, soft tone, he heard the voice of the woman who brought him into the world, say, “Blaine?”

Gazing at the wall, a groggy Blaine felt as if he has not bathed for days. Fur coated his teeth and the pounding between his ears and up his leg mirrored that of anguished emotion. Turning back, Blaine moaned, “Mom.”

Pam leaned forward and kissed her son gently on the cheek. “I’m here, my darling boy.”

“Thank god,” an excited, high-pitched male voice called from the background.

Effervescing rage overpowered the drugs caressing his blood fully rousing him. Unimaginable hurt crashed in on him, causing the injured man to grasp for short breath. The beeping next to her ear increased as pain arched through one leg and up into his torso. Struggling to keep it altogether, a weak Blaine hateful demanded, “I don’t want him here.”

“Blaine?” Kurt’s voice wobbled with pain.

Turning his head away from his treacherous husband, tears squeeze through Blaine’s tightly closed eyes. Anger swelled and he loudly spat, “Just leave!”

His mother softly pleaded. “Darling?”

“Mother, please.” Blaine twitched and drew in a sharp inhale.

“Honey?” Emotion choked Kurt’s tone.

Longing pulled at Blaine as the heart called out for understanding, but then the torments smothered it like a water poured on a fire. Steeling himself, Blaine, refused to budge.

With a worried look, Pam shifted in her chair, giving a teary-eyed son-in-law a quick shrug. Wiping the back of her hand across her blouse, she said to her son-in-law, “Kurt, darling, I think it best you wait for me outside.”

“But?” For a moment, no one spoke and then Kurt sadly said to his husband, “I love you, Blaine.”

The words exploded within a foggy mind, sending confusing shock waves through a torn body. Blaine could not, would not respond as the door opened with a soft thud against the wall. Battling emotions rolled through him and hesitantly turned his head and his mother’s anxious face came into view. It took a moment before everything came into focus and then he smiled the best he could.

Taking her son’s hand, Pam stared into her son’s weary eyes. Arriving late last night, she remained at his side as soon as they would let her. Her fingers rode over his knuckles and up again and after several moments she became aware of the absence of a ring. Recalling her son’s reaction to Kurt, she glanced toward the door.

“Mom,” Blaine moaned, his voice laced with deep, distracting emotion.

Pam whispered in a way only a mother could, “I’m here, my darling.”

Her son’s chest expanded with a deep breath. Staring at her with red rimmed eyes, Blaine almost cried, “Mom.”

Pam stroked his hand and then quickly glanced at Kurt, standing just in the threshold with his head bowed. Swallowed hard, she tried to smile before asking, “Blaine, what’s going on between you two?”

Not wanting to see the expression on his mother’s face, he stared at the wall while tears stained the pillow. When he spoke, pain flashed in his tone. “Where are the children?”

“They’re with Rachel.”

“I want to go home.”

“You just woke. The doctors aren’t going to let you go anywhere and then we’ll take you to your apartment.”

“I want to go home to Lima.”

Pam’s eyes searched the room as she tried to not let her son see how worried she had become. When she spotted Kurt slumping against the wall opposite the door, her expression turned sorrowful.

Weary hazel eyes followed his mother gaze and then slammed shut. Deeply inhaling, he commanded, “I want the twins to come with me.”

No longer able to hide her dismay, Pam looked straight into her son’s eyes and pleaded, “Blaine, honey, what’s going on?”

“Mom, please.” Blaine sobbed.

“You’re going to be here for a while longer,” Pam stroked Blaine’s arm. “You broke an arm, shattered your shin and you have a head injury.”

“I—” Blaine looked surprised.

“Sh-h-h-h-h, dear, we can talk about that later.” Pam tried not to look worried. “Can you tell me what happened.”

Shaking his head lie a petulant child. Blaine blinked a flash of pain erupted behind his eyes. Rolling his head to the right, he cringed and his skin paled. Panting, the beeping of the heart monitor increased.

“Blaine?” Pam leaned forward and pressed the call button.

“I’m alright, mom?” Sucking in a shaky breath, Blaine felt better. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Pam looked very concerned.

Looking very serious, Blaine moaned, “Did—”

Not wanting her son to go where she thought he would, Pam spoke over her son, cutting him off. “Blaine, you were hit by a car.”

Closing his eyes for a moment and Blaine vaguely recalled the sensation of a sudden impact disrupting his rage. In a frail voice, he said, “I remember floating. Time became lost.”

The nurse responding to the call, entered the room while the two talked and studied the readout from the machines. Standing there for a moment, she turned and stepping out into the hall and turned toward the nurse’s station just out of sight. Watching, Blaine noted the confused sentiment in his mother’s eyes.

Swallowing, Pam’s face scrunched up when she noticed her son’s face changed when he glanced past her into the hall. The ache returned gorgeous honey amber eyes, and wanting to distract her son, she said, “I would have been here earlier, but a storm grounded everything.”

Smiling, Blaine muttered with tears in his eyes, “You’re here now.”

“I’m here my little miracle,” Pam glanced out the door and then she placed her hand on his. “You’re been in and out of it for three days.”

“Has he been here . . . all along.” the bitterness in Blaine’s voice softened near then.

Nodding, Pan replied, “Yes.”

Grumbling under his breath, Blaine tried to lift his head only to find it painfully hard. Emotion governed his every thought since waking and now the sheer magnitude of his physical condition struck him. Memories of crushing emotional and physical pain held him in a freezing grip. Fluttering eyelids created a strobe light like flashes of light and dark replaying startling images. His left arm and right legs felt constrained and something pressed down on his head where there should be coils of thick hair.

With his Adam apple moved in his throat and then he looked up at his mother. In a hushed tone, he asked, “Can I have some water, please.”

Getting up, Pam and walked toward the washroom door set in the center of the wall. At the threshold she stopped and glanced out into the corridor to see Kurt looking absolutely destroyed. The man leaned against the wall with an ashen appearance to his already pale complexion. Out of view of her son, she picked her phone out of her pocket and sent two texts. First to Burt telling him to call his son and then get here as soon as possible followed by one telling Jesse and Rachel asking one of the them to get here right away.

Placing one hand over her mouth, she paused and let out a heavy sigh. Filling a paper cup and stepped out into the hall offering it to Kurt with a gentle smile and an arm rub. Turning back, she got another cup and returned to her son. Lifting his head, he helped him drink even as he stared at her with hard, unforgiving eyes.

“Do you want more?” Pam asked as she carefully put his head down again.

“Thanks, mom,” Blaine moaned as he settled back again. His eyes narrowed when he saw Kurt out in the hall with a small white cup in his hand.

“Oh, Blaine, what—” Pam asked in a pleading, tender voice. Her words died away when the nurse and two doctors walked through the door.

“I see you’re finally awake,” the middle-aged man asked as he settled at the end of the bed. He stared at Blaine with a warm grin as if masking his relief.

Moving around to the other side of the bed, the nurse checked the machines and the prepared to take his vital signs. The other doctor stepped closer to the bed displacing a concerned mother, who stepped back. Peeking into the hall, Pam gave her son-on-law a hopeful grin. Kurt sort of shrugged and then he pulled the buzzing phone out of his pocket. Pam hoped to hell Burt called.

The younger doctor looked at Blaine and then held up one hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two and a fat thumb,” Blaine replied.

“Funny,” the older doctor commented with a cheeky grin. “What is three times eight minus two?”

One eyebrow going up, Blaine frowned and responded, “Twenty-two Skidoo.”

“A sense of humour is a good sign,” the nurse commented as she checked the plastic pipes sticking in Blaine’s left wrist.

The first doctor smiled. “We are going to run a few tests, Mr. Anderson-Hummel. There was no damage to your spine, but we want to make sure there is no lasting head trauma. Now that you’re awake, we can set up another MRI for tomorrow.”

The fact Blaine stiffened with the mentioning of his married, had not gone unnoticed by his mother. Trying to remain positive, Pam asked, “Is that normal?”

“Yes, especially after a head trauma Mrs. Anderson,” The same doctors said with a smile. “The neurosurgeon wants to see what it looks like in there. Your son seems to be aware of his surroundings, and that’s a good thing.”

Hazel eyes wandered out into the hall and Blaine frowned. Turning back to his mother said in an anguished tone, he murmured to his mother, “Mom, I don’t want the twins near him.”


	3. Things To Consider

In those moments where awareness and the void effortlessly mixed, an old man felt the confusion stretching through the years. What he recalled of those scattered days came from those short lucid moments and second hand sources. Pam visited every day not only to comfort her son, but to discover the truth. Of that, Blaine remained tight-lipped. A worried Cooper phoned twice, and profusely apologized for not coming. The movie he worked on entered the important final strokes and he could not get away. As expected, his father said absolutely nothing, which suited Blaine just fine.

A couple of days after breaking the coma, Blaine woke up in a surly mood as uncomfortable dreams. Tossing in his sleep, he woke several times to the pain having banged his leg against the tray top as he tossed. Even though they weaned him off the painkillers, the nurse gave him something to make him sleep. With the sun streaming through the crack in the drapes, he lay there brooding. As the minutes ticked on, he got more distraught until he made a phone call shortly. Four hours later a pudgy, short, balding man sat beside the bed with a notebook in hand.

“—want to cover the second MIR, but then insurance is insurance and lawyers are lawyers. Yes, you’re fully covered,” the man droned on as if he had little need to breathe.

“That’s a relief, Roger.” Blaine rubbed his right eye and then blinked. “I can tell you how much that bothered me.”

“I can imagine.” Roger flipped the page nodding as he spoke. “I guess we can move on to the theatre.”

“You talked to them, right?” Blaine asked as he adjusted himself in the bed.

“It’s not going to be as easy as I thought. The summer season is coming up and they’re nervous about a huge delay.” Roger stared at his client with a serious face. His thick, fury brows pushed together, and he frowned. “They said they could stomach a couple of weeks, but not much more than that, which I said might stretch into four.”

“Try possibly seven or eight,” Blaine grumbled, not because of the conversation, but the itching under his leg cast.

“I guess the doctors told you something since we chatted.”

“Yeah.”

“They are not going to like this.”

“I think they may have to be made to understand.”

“Now that the word is out, they have other productions knocking on the door. I don’t think we will be able to hold it, though I think we may be able to get some compensation out of them if we start debating the various legal statutes.” The Fourty-five-year-old lawyer looked down at his notes almost as if he avoided Blaine’s eyes.

“Surely they can see that—” Blaine grimaced as pain shot up his leg.

Looking concerned, Roger suggested, “We can do this later.”

Shaking his head, Blaine picked up the plastic container holding orange juice and sucked on the straw. “What can we do Roger.”

“I don’t know just yet. I’ve heard from June and she’s obviously concerned. She wants you to get better, but—"

“But . . . okay, business is business. They could go on with an understudy and—”

“Kurt.”

Closing his eyes, Blaine rubbed his chin and looked to the blank wall he intimately knew. “That was a stupid suggestion. The whole musical was designed for myself and—"

“Blaine,” Roger went on as he watched Blaine swallow. “We can’t rush this. I will get hold of—"

The lawyer’s words mangled with distorted thoughts creating another mess for Blaine to contend with. His heart sank toward his stomach when he thought of all his dreams flushed away. Over the past couple of days, he had time to consider his feelings and the news Roger brought only made it harder. June admired him, well the two of them. She put a lot on the line and regardless of what Blaine thought about his cheating husband, letting her down amplified his worries. Business hung there as did something more personal. Two weeks ago, the aging matron of the arts had dropped a bombshell—she considered the two of them as more than friends.

Blaine found the thought disturbing while Kurt doted on the idea. Years ago, when June offered to showcase Blaine, he did some research finding details about her professional live by little about private matters. Then, one day, he, Kurt and the kids, met George for coffee. As the middle-aged queen entertained the children, he told their parents a story. Yes, June married rich, but she lost a daughter in childbirth and her son in a plane crash. After the death of her husband, she consoled herself by using her billions to help others. She sponsored many charities, the arts and collected an assortment of promising young people around her. Of those George knew of, June would never have referred to them as being more than friends. The words soothed Blaine, who felt as if she somehow coveted him in other ways. Yes, she could be ruthless, but her gruffness and whit steered the two men to their career goals. How could Blaine tell her, the dream could be dead?

Pouting Blaine felt unsettled and fatigued. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his happy family laughing and playing with one another. Toys lay all over the living room with two dads acting as human cushions. Then a dark cloud slithered into the scene and Blaine saw a thin man fondling his husband. Unlike reality, the geeky man sneered at Blaine as he went down on Kurt draining him dry. That loathsome smirk woke him in the middle of the night and haunted his waking thoughts like some large rabbit following a drunk. Dreams crumbled all around as if the foundations of the building turned to dust, hurting the what compassion he felt.

To say he did not miss Kurt, would be a lie. The man filled him in so many ways, making his life feel complete. As a teen he found safety in his arms, and after two breakups, he discovered the strength to face his demons. The bed he lay in felt empty without a body wrapped up around him. Sometimes he thought he heard singing and then he recalled lying beside an unconscious Kurt on a similar hospital bed. To make him feel uncomfortable, his first roommate turned out to be a badly beaten young man. They took him away the next morning and Blaine did not see him again.

To make matters worse no one visited yesterday except his mother, who stopped by before heading to the airport. They talked about the twins and what to expect when she got back while avoiding the elephant in the room. After she left, he lay there pouting. Maybe he only needed time and to find out what had gone wrong? Then he would close his face and he would see that other man and the anger turned over mixed with guilt. Yes, he had done it himself once and he would forever regret it. At least he had the balls to tell Kurt instead of sneaking around backstage and lying in texts. If he had heard it and not seen it, he thought he could get over Kurt’s dismissive reaction.

“…if you want me to. I would not move on anything just yet. We don’t have all the facts and the law is very specific.” Roger’s words slowed as his tone filled with concern. “Blaine?”

The injured man had barely heard a word. Turning his head so he lay sideways on the pillow, he looked at the man and frowned. The way he felt had nothing to do with his physical distress, but rather his hot and cold emotions.

The officious man closed the folder he had in his hand and commented, “Blaine, maybe I should go? This is too much right now.”

“Sorry, Roger,” Blaine moaned with a heavy heart. “Please go on, decisions need to be made.”

“I could talk to Kurt”

“Right . . . him.”

“These are separate issues.”

“Have you thought about what we talked about on the phone?”

“Honestly, Blaine.” Roger sighed, and gave the young man a look, “The worst we can do is a fifty-fifty split, but then nothing is guaranteed.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Blaine closed his eyes. He could see how much this conversation bothered Roger. The lawyer knew both men, not just on a professional level, but on a personal level. “What do you suggest?”

With a succinct tone, Roger answered, “Get better and let your emotions settle. Then we can do a full investigation of the facts.”

Sighing, Blaine looked upset, “I’m sorry, for putting you in this position. Roger.”

“In my experience, it’s better to face things like this with a calm mind.” Roger scratched his chin. “I noted Detective Willis, down in the lobby when I walked in. Was she here to see you?”

Jogging his mind by slowly shaking his head. “More questions.”

“They’re not getting any further ahead. No one got a good look at the diver.”

“She didn’t mention that to me.”

“I asked a friend to dig up some facts on the investigation. The car was stolen, and they found no prints. He told me that video evidence from the corner store revealed the driver purposely swerved onto the sidewalk?”

“Could . . . no . . . did—” Blaine sat up in bed to fast his head swam. Looking a little disoriented and fell back against the raised bed. Sighing, he looked down at right leg locked in a metal brace holding a semi-flexible cast beneath.

“Blaine don’t go there. He told the police that after you ran out the children were crying.”

“And he had to make a choice?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t blame him for making the right one, Roger. So, what about the children?”

“There are few cases that match your situation. Records show that you’re the father of Alexander but Kurt’s Katherine’s father. Rachel, being the mother, has a say in all this too.”

Blaine sighed, and his eyes went to the door to see someone standing there with his arms crossed leaning against the frame. Swallowing hard, he knew this would happen eventually. Looking to Roger he said, “See what you can do.”

“I see you have company. I’ll get started on this, but I can’t promise anything.” Roger put his things into his briefcase and stood. “I’ll be in touch, Blaine.”

Roger nodded to the man in the door as he passed by, leaving Blaine panicking. The Hummel patriarch inclined his head to the little man as he passed by and then turned into the room. The congressman wore a dark gray, pinstriped suit with the same rainbow pin Blaine had given him years ago. The man in the bed swallowed when his father-in-law’s eyes fell on him.

“May I come in.” Burt said in a soft tone.

The pain washing through Blaine’s chest did not come from his injuries. Putting on a brave face, Blaine stuck on thumb up and grinned. “Please, I’ve been expecting you.”

“I’ve seen you looking better, kid,” Burt managed a small smile, as he slowly entered.

“Carole and I dropped by yesterday, but you were sleeping so we decided to wait and here I am.”

“You could have woken me.”

“Blaine, to be honest, I didn’t want to. I was a little bit upset at the time.”

“Is Carole with you?”

“No, she’s gone shopping with Kurt,” The congressman said with an unimpressed look. “Who was that?”

Shopping and Kurt equaled fun, but shopping plus the mother-in-law meant therapy. A chill ran down his back, and Blaine knew lying would get him nowhere. In a soft voice he admitted, “My lawyer.”

Burt gave his son-in-law the one eyebrow look as he rubbed his hands together. Indicating the chair, he asked, “May I sit?”

“Please,” Blaine politely answered even though his voice quivered. Staring at the rainbow pin he weakly smiled, but deep down he knew it would not save him. Burt furiously loved his child making the conversation to come a sharp, two-edged sword.

Strolling up behind the chair, Burt placed both hands its back and leaned forward. No one spoke for a moment and the silence killed Blaine. Heat rose from his neck to his cheeks along with the fear bubbling in his chest. Ever since his mother told him Burt and Carole would be arriving, he felt apprehensive.

“We had issues to deal with.” Blaine noted the lines on Burt’s face and quickly added, “Issuance for one and then the musical.”

Pulling the chair back, Burt slowly sat. With grief in his eyes, he said, “Blaine, it’s really none of my business, but are you certain you want to take that step?”

Right to the point, Blaine expected nothing less from his father-in-law. He loved the man for his directness, his warn nature, and his humour. He expected none of the humour as he stared into a politician’s poker face. Pushing the hair back from his face, Blaine glanced at the cast on his arm finding it hard to look at his father-in-law. Clearing his throat, he forced himself to look Burt in the eyes. Struggling with his motions and the words he muttered, “Honestly, I . . . don’t know, Burt.”

Sitting back, the bald man crossed his arms as he studied the son-in-law with objective eyes. When Burt spoke, his tone overflowed with the concern of a parent, “I hope you don’t think I’m out of place, but may I give you some advice?”

A simple shrug turned into a painful affair as he grinned at the Kurt’s father.

Burt’s eyes registered the change in Blaine complexion and the colour of his eyes. Leaning forward, he said, with a firm voice, “Listen to your lawyer. Let things calm down before you do anything.”

“I’m trying." Blaine sounded meek and distance as he choked on the air he drew in.

With an unchanged tone, Burt added, “Kurt told me what happened.”

“And?” The word came out stiff because Kurt used that word in a similar tone, and it ached deep inside his chest.

“I won’t pretend I’m not concerned.” Burt allowed his façade to break. “If Washington has taught me there are at least three sides to each story. I’m not here to judge, Blaine. I’m just concerned.”

Choking back tears, Blaine felt relieved. “Thank you, Burt.”

One of Burt’s eyebrows went up. “However, I do want to hear your side. He told me you accused him of cheating with a stagehand.”

Letting his head fall against the pillow. Blaine’s eyes watered and his skin paled. His eyes slowly went up to the ceiling and he bit his lip. He tentatively responded, “Burt believe me . . . when I saw . . . him . . . I—"

“Your world fell apart.”

“Yeah.”

“What does this tell you.” Burt pointed at Blaine’s chest. “Honestly.”

Hesitating, Blaine’s head slowly tilted so that he stared at his expanding chest. In an almost silent voice he replied, “I . . . love him.”

“Then let it heal.” Burt leaned closer tapping Blaine’s chest. “We have all made mistakes and while—”

“You did not see him,” Blaine interrupted as his anger flared. “He . . . gods, I don’t—"

Placing a hand on his sons-in-law’s shoulder cutting the young man off, Burt said, “You don’t have to go on, Blaine. I saw the pain in your face.”

Releasing a big sigh, Blaine wiped his eyes. Leave it to Burt to force him to dredge that all up. At the moment he did not know whether to thank him or demand he leave. Staring at his father-in-law his eyes rapidly fluttered and then he swallowed. In a low tone he asked, “I know what I . . . okay . . . Burt, you can imagine—”

“Yes, I can, son.”

“I’ve been doing nothing but thinking about it. Jesus, Burt, I love him so much but?”

“Kurt’s miserable too.”

“And I’m not?” Blaine blurt out and then his face flushed bright red. “Sorry.”

“Blaine,” Burt slid forward in his chair and placed his hand on his son-in-law’s bicep and pointed at the Pride pin with the other. “Do you remember that conversation prior to you asking my son to marry you?”

“Yes.”

“Relationships are not all roses and nights of wild sex. There are the tough times, and I know you know that. The two of you hit a very large bump in the road, but don’t let it derail you. You need to find it in yourself to speak to my son with honesty.”

Blaine shook his head and inhaled do deep he thought his chest would burst.

Pulling his hand back, Burt added, “Your mother is coming back in a couple of days after she has things set up in Lima. I guess that means the doctors have said you can go home.”

With a quaking chin, Blaine tried to hold back his sobs. “It’s so hard Burt. I miss him. I’m angry with him. I wish he was here, but then I think I would hit him.”

“You want time to figure it out.”

“Yes.”

“And you can’t speak to him?”

“We’ll only fight.”

“I understand, Blaine and I would rather you have the conversation with no lawyers in the room.”

“Okay.”

“Please don’t take too long, because a festering wound doesn’t heal.”

“I’m trying.”

“I’ll talk to Kurt and maybe we can arrange for the two of you to speak.”

“How is he?”

“As I said, miserable. He doesn’t understand.”

“I know what I saw and—” Blaine bit his tongue and lowered his gaze. “Burt, just tell him I need . . . time.”

“I’ll do that, son, but don’t be dramatic.” Burt placed his hand on top of Blaine’s. “Kurt and Rachel have consented, so Carole and I will take care of twins.”

“Thank god, I was worried.” Blaine’s voice had a sad edge to it. “I miss them.”

“I just want you to get better and sort this mess out with my son. You’ve said you still love him, so just give yourself time.”

Blaine sadly nodded.

Grinning, Burt added, “I love my son and I will do what I can for him.”

“I’ve always known that, Burt,” Blaine blinked back tears and looked away feeling his chest tighten. Drawing in a painful breath, he glanced at his father-in-law knowing he had lots to consider. Wiggling his lips back and forth, he then said, “Please, Burt, I’m tired.”

“I love you too, Blaine,” Burt added without a hint of hesitation. “You’ve been part of the family since you were a teenager. You have to know that.”

With a heavy, sad, sigh, Blaine replied, “Yes and I’m sorry.”

“Just remember, Blaine,” Burt commented as he stood. “Love should always be greater than hate. Hate destroys the soul while love is expansive and inclusive. The two of you have a true love. I knew it the day you came to the garage, even though you two did not know it yet. True love lets you see not only your truth, but the truth of the person you love.”

Feeling hopelessly alone, he looked toward the window on the other side of the empty bed beside him. With tears rolling down his cheeks, Blaine watched his father-in-law turn and step out into the hall. As usual, Burt’s words dug deep, leaving a gnawed hole in his heart. His poise, that look and his tone, all combined to press Blaine down into the bed with nowhere else to turn. Shaken to the core, choppy sentiment boiled over the edges of the cauldron making a seething chaos. To make things worse, he admitted to loving Kurt. How could he not, but then, how could he trust him again?

Sometime in the middle of the night, he woke screaming and covered in sweat. Thrashing sent the pillow sliding off the bed and he smashed his arm on nearby tray. When the nurse came trotting in, she found Blaine lying awkwardly on his side crying. After she got him calmed down and untangled him from the sheets, she gave him a mild sedative and he drifted off into dreamless slumber.

The next day the doctors arrived to talk to him about his injuries and his mental state. Fear took his heart and before he knew it, he unburdened himself in an attempt to keep everything on track. Wiping the water from his eyes, he waited for the verdict, but then the doctors turned and left. Shivering, more tears slipped down his unshaven cheeks and then the nurse walked in with a pair of crutches. Excited to get out of bed, he painfully he plodded out into the hall under the watchful eyes of the nurse.

He walked until for about twenty minutes and then he hobbled back to his bed. A little bit later one of the doctors walked in and told him he did very well, and he saw no reason not to release him to a doctor in Lima. His bed, in his home with the twins close by, what else could he ask for. Feeling happier than he had felt in days, he laid back and sighed. He hated lying around doing nothing because his vast world had shrunk down to ten square feet. For a while he felt like some blob encased in plaster waiting for someone to save him. The thought made him laugh and then immensely sad. With his head pressed into the pillow, he found himself staring at the lighter band of skin on his finger where a ring once rested. Just as he started to sink the nurse came along to save him from his own depravity.

Later that evening, Rachel dropped by and announced Burt and Carole had taken the twins back with them to Lima. The news disappointed the injured man because he wished he could have seen his little darlings one more time. Pam and Carole brought them by for a short visit leaving Blaine felling luxuriously happy and laboriously miserable at the same time. They both looked so forlorn and Katherine kept asking why papa mopped so much which brought tears to his eyes. How could he explain this to them? What had Kurt told them?

A couple of his friends from NYU dropped by following morning and of course they wanted to know all about the accident. Well, that did not help at all and when they left, Blaine felt despondent. Sulking until they wheeled in his last lunch, his eyes brightened with his mom walked through the door. With no hesitation, she said she went to the apartment with Kurt to collect a few things he would need and to save the plants from the dying of thirst. By seven that afternoon, Blaine flopped into his seat for the uncomfortable flight to his own bed.


	4. The Innocence of Children

It felt good to be at home and away from . . . Blaine pushed it from his mind. Thank god, his mom had left his bedroom almost exactly as it had been when he left almost ten years ago. The sight of everything lifted his heart, making him feel better. His books rested in neat rows with childhood toys sat in their place on the top of the shelves. A small smile parted his lips as he breathed in familiar odours—mom’s cooking, fresh cloths from the dryer and the fragrances he left behind. These things and time erased them, but he went back to a far less complicated place. Puberty had not even entered the picture yet, and Cooper still roamed about making life exciting.

After a couple days of his mother fawning over him, the aching in his chest dulled from a raging roar. He liked the feeling of home, even though every time he closed his eyes, he saw it all over again. Why that nerdy thing? Chandler? How long has it been going on? Since high school? Why text him? Of course, he would text because getting the man to speak about intimacy could be like pulling teeth. Blaine might have been able to accept if had not been for his deceitful method of breaking the news.

Just as fast as his temper would cool, and boredom set it, he would rage again. He found it odd, that his seething would be entertaining . . . okay . . . he eventually settled on consuming. This realization worried him, and he found distraction by scanning the room. A little glass box sat on his dresser holding some of the treasures of a school romance. The trip to Lima has been unforgivably horrible and when he first hobbled into his old room, the sight of the box tore into his heart. Holding it together while his mother set the suitcases to one side, he took the room in knowing she watched him. Hanging some of his things up, she left her son to pull himself together. Standing there, leaning against his crutches, Blaine’s eyes wandered over and picked the box. At first impulse, he wanted to smash it into the garbage can, but, he could not. Kurt had a hold on him, he knew he could never let go.

The quiet of his childhood home felt odd and, in many ways, it seemed too quiet. With no door slamming and only the soft voice of his mother to keep him company, it felt incredibly empty. Unlike the hospital bed, his old bed gave him room to spread out, and found he did not for two reasons—his leg and some ridiculous desire not to invade what would be Kurt’s domain. Unable to lie on his side, he pulled a pillow next to him for comfort. When he dosed, which he did often, he imagined someone with him. Sometimes he woke sad and others the anger frothed up making him feel uneasy.

His mom used up all the holiday time from work to travel to New York and then taking care of him the first two days in Lima. On the third morning she returned needed to return, leaving Blaine to his own devices. In her motherly way, Pam fussed over her boy setting him up with snacks and drinks in his room. She told him not to navigate the stairs until she got home and if he needed anything to call the neighbours. This left Blaine with lots of time to watch television, read, sleep and of course think.

With the television being no more than background noise, Blaine lay there staring up at the ceiling. A book, he had not read since he was eleven, rested cover up on the duvet beside him with only a few pages turned over. As much as he tried, his mind would not release him. This morning he had nothing to look forward to, except the torture of his mind and heart. Back in New York, there had always been a chance Kurt might drop in for a visit, but here, no. Regardless of his promise to Burt, he just could not find it in himself to speak to Kurt. The cell phone rested beside the bed and each time he picked up, he just put it down again.

Shaking his head, Blaine drew in a deep breath. He said to himself, “I need to think of something else. Perhaps some fresh air.”

Dragging himself up off the bed, he grabbed his crutches and slowly made his way out into the hall. The cast on his arm made using them uncomfortable, but his ass enjoyed the relief even if the stairs presented an issue. Sitting on the top stair he made his way up and down one by one. The deck looked icy and to test it, he pressed one of the rubber end of a crutch out and it slid. Second thoughts rolled through his mind and then he sighed.

“So much for that Blaine Anderson-Hu—” Agony exploded in his chest with and his voice crumbled away. Standing there with the door, pressing softly on his back, a tear rolled down his cheek.

The feeling of the moisture working its way through the forest of stubble made him shiver. It felt warm against his cold skin and his thought flashed to a moment in the snow some years ago. The chest tightened and the air he gulped in reminded him of the taste of carbon monoxide. His stomach turned and for a moment he thought he would throw up. Shaking, Blaine found it hard to control himself as that dreadful day closed in on him. Leaning against the doorframe, he let his head land against the wood. Looking down at the white-blue finger where a ring once sat, a flash of pain raced up his body. Rolling from his leg into his pelvis, Blaine shuddered. Carefully retreating backward, he closed and locked the back door feeling a sense of surrender. In the hospital, he only wanted to return to his birth home, but now he felt listless. He missed his mother, his children, the sounds of a busy household and, yes, his husband’s smile. Sentiment layered itself within his chest like so many blankets protecting against winter’s chill.

Swallowing hard, Blaine stood there in the mudroom feeling the chill leech out of his body. Finding comfort in the strange sensation, he breathed in and out for a few long moments. For a little while he felt obscure tingling rolling up his legs from the base of his feet. Distracting and calming at the same time, he felt oddly grounded. Everything seemed to fade into shades of gray and then nagging concerns invaded his thoughts. His conversations with his worried mother whittled down to a single word—divorce. Blaine sputtered on his breath until he realized she spoke about herself. Pam, who would just like to have it settled, and Daniel dragged his feet by arguing over the smallest things. Some of it seemed stupid to Blaine and then he realized his mother danced around the root of the issues. Asking a simple question only brought up heartbreak when she twisted it into the situation with Kurt. Minutes later, a son bitterly asked his mother to leave. Emotions settled when Carole showed up with the twins that afternoon and in private, he apologized for his rudeness.

His bowed when he thought of the way he yelled at his mother. She took all in stride, but his ever-changing thoughts about infidelity cramped in his gut. Just once he wished to have moments where his mind and heart would come to a decision point without drowning him. Turning his head to one side as if he did not want to look at something, the bitterness brewed like overheated coffee in his heart. Grinding his teeth, the need to pee overrode his overpowering desire to hide under the covers.

His business done, he lumbered into his room and swung his leg up onto the bed and rested it on top of a firm pillow. Drawing in a deep breath, he slowly sat back against the headboard. Staring at the wall, he pursed his lips and then let out a huge sigh knowing he could not just sit there letting his emotions get the best of him. Picking up the tablet from the side of the bed, he powered it up. A couple of minutes later, he browsed the latest from Broadway. The entertainment news had reported on his accident and the cancellation of the production until his recovery. Dozens of fans expressed regrets and get well soon comments in the feeds. The thought disappointing his . . . their . . . fans angered Blaine, but he knew Roger had done his best. In hindsight, he could not blame the theatre to pulling out. Now it all boiled down to legal wrangling behind the scenes.

The Sound of Music returned to Broadway for a limited engagement. Kurt would have commented his husband would make the perfect Captain Von Trapp. Growling, he flipped to MSN and he laughed at a couple of things he found there followed by a deep frown. Laughter? God’s he almost forgot what it felt like. It felt strange as if he somehow betrayed something.

Rubbing his head and rolling his eyes, he put the tablet down and peeked at the television. Aimlessly turning the channels desperate to find something to distract him. Just after the clock struck eleven, Blaine noticed the little orange flashing Skype signal. Staring at the little flashing symbol, he saw Rachel’s name pop up in the corner of his screen. Closing his eyes, he knew he should answer and, for a second, he felt like blocking her. At present his husband's name did not appear on the list, but if the mood struck, he would unblock him as he had half a dozen times already.

The flashing continued for quite a while, and Blaine knew Rachel would not give up easily. He liked her, in fact loved her in the friend’s way. Yes, she could be uppity so-in-so, but her redeeming features made here an adorable woman. Closing his eyes, he judged his emotions by counting to ten and then tapped the screen.

“Took, you long enough,” Rachel complained as her image flashed up full screen.

Groaning, Blaine replied, “Nice to see you too.”

“Good to see you too. How are you doing?” She said as she pulled at the hair piled on the back of her head in a great bun. She looked like a matronly mother with elegant makeup and rosy pink cheeks.

Smiling as best he could, Blaine had no illusions where this conversation may go. Applying his poker face, the recovering man replied. “Better. I tried to go for a walk, but it’s icy out there.”

“You want to see, the munchkin?”

“Oh, yes.”

Rachel bent over, and a chubby face filled the screen looking oddly at Blaine. A proud mother said, “She’s so sweet . . . during the day.”

“You get used to the lack of sleep,” Blaine countered. He missed his family, and seeing them last night proved trying, loving and exhausting.

“Tell me about it.” Rachel moved her head to one side to let Blaine see her smile before setting the child down on her lap. Barbara’s little head looked at her mother as she reached for something out of sight. “I can’t wait to get a good night’s sleep.”

“I’m still not getting them.”

“Where’s the twins. The little one misses them.”

“My mom picking them from Carole’s after she gets off work. She’s taking them to a petty zoo.”

“That will be fun.”

“Living in New York they never see much other than strays and the flocks of pigeons. Not much of a country life there.”

Rachel laughed. “Has Sam dropped by?”

“A couple of times. He has girl trouble again.”

“What else is new?”

“This is big. He's going to be a father.”

“Again?”

“Yup.”

“Not the same woman?”

“Nope.”

“I hope that never happens to my little sweetie.” Rachel sighed and hefted her daughter up so she could scream into the microphone.

Blaine involuntarily pulled back from the screen. “Jessie would skin him alive.”

Rachel laughed. “Jesse? Really? I have sharper fangs than him.”

“I know.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You asked for it.”

Rachel hesitated and her expression suddenly changed. Looking right into the camera, she said in a soft tone, “When are you coming home? I miss you.”

“Nice try, Rachel,” Blaine looked bleak. It took her, what, five minutes?

“Are you ever going to tell me your side of the story?” She bounced the bundle of joy on her knee. The little girl cooed with a big smile.

“Rachel?”

“I’m sorry Blaine, but you need to get hold of yourself.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Kurt’s a mess.”

“Rachel!”

“Come off it. I know you still love him.”

“I’m going to hang up.”

Shaking her head, Rachel said, “The two of you need to talk this thro—”

Blaine broke the connection and tossed the tablet to the edge of the bed. His head drooped and his covered his eyes with his palms feeling moisture. It had been two weeks since the hit-and-run and he still could not speak to his estranged husband. Without remorse, Pam told him Kurt called now and then to see how he was doing. He knew his mother and the Hummel’s tiptoed about the subject of Kurt. Luckily, Burt spent most of the time in Washington, where they debated a major trade bill. The words he spoke at the hospital, hung heavily on his heart mixed with the rest of the mess. Last week, her son caught Pam taking note of the picture of Kurt and Blaine resting beside the bed. It remained exactly where Blaine placed it during his days at Dalton. Strangely, now that he thought about it, Blaine saw had not noticed until that moment.

Rolling onto his side, Blaine stared at the window resisting the pull of Kurt’s handsome face. Time passed in a blur as Blaine reached down to the bottom of his pot of despair. Lost in himself, he looked up to see when he heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet in the hall. With a scream, Alex ripped around the corner first throwing himself excitedly on top the bed. The mattress rebound causing a wave of pain to shoot up his father’s leg. They pinned the bone in three places and then encased it in a metal brace. No longer wearing the arm sling, the cast ran from his wrist and stopping on the where the elbow met the bicep.

The light flickered in Blaine’s as he blinked at his son crawling toward him. The sky outside turned dark and he had not even realized it. A little hand reached for the cast on his arm and a happy father smiled. Ahead of tight curls came to rest on the duvet nest with him as a balled up little hand bounced off the hardness enveloping his forearm.

Wincing, Blaine’s eyes went to the door as Kate entered at a statelier pace. Walking very carefully, she carried a big cup with the lid tightly screwed to it. Walking to the edge of the bed, she offered it to her father as Alex rolled about at the end of the mattress dangerously close to his father’s leg.

“Alex, careful. You know your father is not well,” Pam said from the door with a mother’s tone to her voice. The little boy gave her a sullen look.

“It’s alright, mom, no harm done” Blaine apologized for his son he fondly stared at. Alex looked more and more like Blaine as he grew older. Kate reminded him so much of Kurt it hurt.

“Daddy, drink,” Kate stood there holding the cup out to him with a big smile.

Reached out, Blaine suddenly hesitated and stared at his daughter. Big blue saucers gazed up at him and a spike of sadness shot through his heart. Those innocent eyes killed him and why should they not. Katherine had inherited them from her dad along with his cheekbones, while her nose and mouth chin vaguely mirrored her mother. Being with his kids proved much harder than he could ever have expected. Their looks and little words ate into foul sentiments causing a different kind of agony.

“Daddy?” Kate quietly inquired as her head tilted to one side as he she tried to understand.

Trying to hold the tears back, he leaned forward, and took the cup. Sniffing it, he sweetly smiled before taking a small draft. “Yummy, strawberry.”

“I like chocolate,” the precocious Alex announced from the end of the bed. He lay on his stomach with his feet kicking in the air. A tiny hand approached the metal cage protecting his father’s left leg.

“Alex,” Pam counseled in a soft but firm from the door.

Pulling back, the boy pouted. Rolling over to the edge of the bed, he stared up at Blaine with greenish-hazel eyes. “Read daddy?”

“Go, get a book and I’ll read to you,” Blaine said with a small smile, knowing his children’s purity softened the sharp edges of his heart.

Gazing at Blaine, Kate asked, “Can call papa?”

Blaine gawked as the heat rising in his chest. His daughter had a haunting knack of knowing exactly what buttons to press. Again, she got that from Kurt and a sudden tinge of regret rolled up his chest—they missed him. Stubbornly, he recognized he both missed him and wanted to have nothing to do with him all at once. Admitting that Burt’s wisdom may have hit the mark, and some days Blaine wanted to call Kurt, then Roger and then just forget the whole thing. Then his little wonders would arrive throwing everything upsides down. Their innocence and his fatherly need to protect cut into him like a sharp blade. Protecting them could mean living his life with a husband he could not trust. Conversely, it could mean accepting and moving on. Some days he felt like a mess and cry and then others, he felt as if he could face it all head on. Brooding took on a whole knew and disturbing meaning over the past two weeks.

Trying to hide his discomfort, Blaine answered, “Papa has to take care of things in New York.”

Studying the books on top of the dresser, Alex turned. “When will he visit?”

“I don’t know, papa is very busy.” Blaine tried to keep calm even though the muscle in the center of his chest beat red-hot with a confusing mix of emotions. His eyes went to his mother who raised an eyebrow.

Kate pouted and then leaned her head on the edge of the mattress. Gazing up at Blaine, she looked like a sorrowful puppy. “Why is daddy mad?”

Alex chirped up. “Papa is a—”

“Alex,” Crossing her arms Pam gave him that grandmother look.

The simple, blameless words brought a hint of water to Blaine’s eyes. Oh, the love of children and their angelic way of forcing adults into a prickly corner. With all of Rachel’s skill and Kurt’s amazing eyes, his daughter wrapped stubborn Blaine around her finger. The heart groaned and for a moment Blaine recalled an awkward conversation with Burt on a stage. The chat frightened the teen, though it did not prevent him from setting his scheme into motion. The picnic basket sat ready in the trunk of his mother’s car and the flowers delivered planned to the minute.

Sitting on the blanket with a younger Kurt only feet away, he asked in a deep, almost sultry voice, “What's the story with this New York guy?”

“There's no story.” The teen with the high-pitched voice replied with a sideways glance. “He was nice, and people liked the idea of us as a couple, but it never got serious. Let me break it down for you. The last time we tried dating I was in New York and you cheated on me. All right? Unacceptable.”

“We've been through this. I thought you were done with me. I thought it was over. I thought I was completely out of the picture in your life. Look at me in the eyes when I say this. I'm being beyond serious. I will never, ever, ever cheat on you again.”

“I'm gonna need you to sign one of those non-cheating contracts. You can get one on Oprah's Web site.”

“I will sign whatever you want just, please, say that you and I can be boyfriends again . . . What?”

“I don't know if relationships actually work. I mean, weren't Bethenny and Jason supposed to be forever?”

“For every Bethenny and Jason, there is a Will and a Jada and a Kurt and a Goldie. Come on . . . Can we at least just give it a try?”

“But I'm Goldie, of course.”

“Of course, you are."

“Okay. I can't believe we're gonna do this again.”

“Daddy?” Kate whispered as she leaned into Blaine staring into his face.

Her father flushed pink and blinked back the tears. For a moment he wanted to heave in a huge breath but restrained himself. Struggling to keep it all together, he tilted his head toward his daughter a fond gaze.

With concern etched into her face, Pam stepped to the end of the bed and asked, “Do you want me to get your pain killers?”

The injured man blinked and wiped a water from his eye. Waving his mom off with the other, he said, “No, mom, I’m fine.”

A ‘yeah right’ expression crossed Pam’s face as her eyes went to her grandchildren and then back to her son. Blaine shrunk back into the pillow.

Harmlessly, Kate asked, “Daddy, sad?”

From the other side of the bed Alex pushed a colourful book at his father. Saved.

Taking it, Blaine smiled. “Climb up here and snuggle close.”

Pam cautioned. “Be careful, kids.”

“Yes nana,” Kate chimed as she put her drink on the night table and trotted to the foot of the bed and climbed up.  
.  
With the kids cuddling up against each other on the pillow beside him, Blaine opened the book. Holding it so his little darlings could see the colourful pictures he comically cleared his throat. Starting to read, he said, in a deep accented tone, “Once upon a time, a lovely princess—”

“Me princeth,” Kate blurt out.

“You’re already a princess.” Blaine smiled.

“I’m a k-night.” Alex puffed himself out.

Smiling, for the sake of her grandchildren, Pam gave her son ‘we’re going to talk look’. She hovered there for a moment, watching, and then, turned away and went downstairs to begin dinner.

With care and playful expressions, the story unrolled for the children’s entertainment. Pretended he stood on a Broadway stage Blaine’s voice rose and fell as he emphasized elements of the story. Now and then he paused to allow one of them to explore the pictures in the book or to respond to their comments. Three quarters of an hour later Pam stepped into the room with a serious look on her face.

Glancing up from the page he just turned, Blaine looked up and enthusiastically asked, “Mom?”

Standing close to the doorframe, Pam looked nervous. Giving her son a small smile, she said. “Honey, there are some people here to speak to you.”

“Who?” Blaine lowered the book with a puzzled look on his face.

The kids screamed and noisily piled off the bed, leaving Blaine red faced with pain. Charging across the room they smashed into their papa. Behind him stood Burt wearing a crisp dark brown business suit and a tall, lean, young fellow in a dark blue suit.


	5. The Man in a Blue Suit

The man on the bed, stared with contempt at the man holding his arms out to the twins. Two little darlings drove the man to his knees with their enthusiastic impact pushing their papa back against the wall. Shrill voices pierced adult ears and for Blaine the sound overrode the words of a deceptive man tearfully greeting his children. Pulling two little bodies against his, Kurt kissed each of them several times. He looked so happy until his blue eyes looked across the room finding Blaine. The fingers of his injured arm balled into a fist as anger flared and Blaine suddenly looked away. His chest burned with conflicting emotions which almost had him laughing and crying at the same time. Struggling to understand why these people invaded his reading time with the twins, he knew he had to control himself. Holding his breath, he closed his eyes in an attempt to stifle the disappointment he felt. He knew his father-in-law would not give up, but why involve a stranger?

The sound of the twins clamouring over Kurt made the pain in Blaine’s heart heavier. With his head pushing down toward his chest, Blaine struggled to keep it together. He loved everything about that man, from his smell to the way the pitch of his voice changed when he got excited. In short-order, Kurt became the center of his life the moment they met on those stairs. Now, for the third time the center spiraled away, leaving him surrounded by darkness. The gloom devoured his will and entering the soul like some laughing maniac desirous of misdeeds. Over the long days since the accident, he sometimes felt distant, as if something watched from afar wishing him ill.

Watching his children embrace his lying husband tore into Blaine, but then it looked natural. An odd sense of hurt and love shone in Kurt’s face as the children celebrated. How, could Blaine have taken them from him? Any doubt he suffered rebounded on him while storm bubbled in those places where light confronted dark.

“Mr. Blaine Anderson-Hummel,” a strange and calm voice called from the door overriding the joy of two young souls.

Startled by the sound of the voice, Blaine rolled his head around revealing the hurt on his face. Inhaling a short but painful gulp of air, he tried to steady his feelings. Turning slowly, hard hazel eyes fell on the stranger looking the man up and down. The presence of this average looking gentleman forced Blaine to very quickly get hold of himself.

Pulling something from his pocket, he flipped open an official looking identification, the man went on as if the gaze meant nothing. “I’m special agent Bryan Struthers of the FBI. I have a few questions to ask you.”

Time froze, and Blaine could do nothing but stare. From the corner of his eye, he watched Pam walk over to the twins and crouched down. “Would you like some ice cream? I have vanilla and chocolate.”

The children pulled away from the papa erasing the smile from Kurt’s face. Sad blue eyes shifted from Kate to Alex as the little ones turned their attention toward the promise of sweets. As they turned toward the hall, Blaine noticed the heavy regret in Kurt’s eyes. For a second it felt as if a sharp blade ripped into Blaine’s heart, forcing him to tilt his head down. With tears rolling down his cheeks Kurt swallowed and then slowly stood. He had seen enough to recognize the agony in husband’s tired and bruised unshaven face. Bruised? What happened?

“Chocolate,” Alex’s voice carried from the hall.

Kate cooed. “Me too,”

Taking their little hands, Pam glanced back at her son just before she vanished from sight.

The FBI agent watched until the children left and then turned his attention back to the man on the bed. “Mr. Blaine Anderson-Hummel—”

“Please, call me Blaine,” the injured man cut in. He stared at the federal agent avoiding his fraudulent husband who crouched next to the door wearing the most common and boring clothing Blaine had never seen him in.

“Very well, Blaine,” the agent nodded and carried on. “Do you know someone named Chandler Kiehl?”

The look on Blaine’s said ‘what’ and then morphed into anger. Bitterly he replied, “I know of him, but I have never actually met him.”

“Have you ever spoken to him?”

“Not directly.”

“Not directly?”

Blaine glance to the side and drew in a deep breath. In his mind, he saw a skinny man making out with the man he thought he loved. He looked resolutely at Kurt and stated, “The closest I got to him was when I caught him with his hands down . . . my husband’s . . . pants.”

Burt glanced at his son as if he had just learned something new. Kurt shrank away from his father with an uncomfortable look on his face.

“I see.” Struthers wrote something into the pad in his hand.

Puzzled, Blaine asked, “What does this have to do with anything?”

“I think you have better hear me out, Blaine,” the FBI agent said in a calm tone as he looked at everyone else in the room. His eyes settled on the congressman and added, “What I have to say is not common knowledge. I received the consolidated report on the drive here.”

Burt’s brow furrowed as his gaze shifted toward the agent. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed the expression on Kurt’s face mirror his own surprise. Kurt now stood close to his father as if the man steadied his resolve.

Blaine gave his father-in-law a look and asked, “Do I need to call Roger?”

“No,” the Burt answered, shaking his head.

“Okay. Can someone please explain what is going on and why he’s there?” Pain flashed across his face as Blaine pointed at his disloyal husband.

Backing into the wall, Kurt bent his head and looked at the carpet. From behind, his father’s hand fell on his son’s shoulder.

Ignoring everyone’s reactions, Struthers explained in unemotional voice. “Chandler Kiehl, was arrested two days ago and charged with attempted murder, attempted kidnapping, assault and a number of other crimes.”

“Murderer? Kidnapping?” Pain shot across his face as Blaine pulled himself upright in bed. With wide eyes, he stared at the agent even though he noticed Kurt flinch. “What happened?”

Without stumbling, Struthers added, “The FBI got involved when this Mr. Kiehl tried to kidnap the son of a congressman.”

Flabbergasted by the agent’s words, Blaine glanced at Kurt with a slack jaw. With his heart stuck in his throat, his fingers splayed wide, his uninjured arm waved back and forth as if he had no idea what to do with it.

Taking a step, Burt calmly said, “Blaine, I know this is a lot, but you have to get hold of yourself and—”

“You?” Rage rushed across Blaine’s face as his eyes narrowed at Burt.

“Blaine,” the agent interrupted before Burt could respond. Waiting for the injured man to gaze his way, the then continued, “Blaine, you have to understand, such an act is taken very seriously these days. We connected it to your accident and determined he tried to kill you. It appears Mr. Kiehl was obsessed with your husband. Three days ago, he tried to kidnap Mr. Kurt Anderson-Hummel.”

Not knowing what to say, Blaine shifted painfully on the bed. Bile rose in his through and it burned when he swallowed. The shock on his face soften as he glanced at Kurt. The man stood there staring down at the floor looking a complete shambles. Suddenly, his husband’s head rose as if he knew and hazel found blue. With his breath catching in his throat, Blaine pulled his lips tightly together not know how to react.

In a low voice Burt said, “Rachel walked into it.”

“Is she alright?” After the words flew from his lips Blaine’s as he painfully shifted toward the edge of the bed. Somewhere within the fog, the beads of compassion stir.

“She’s got cut up, but she’s fine,” Burt replied with a thankful tone to his voice.

“Mrs. St. James was injured in the altercation.” The agent added, “Her intervention prevented your husband from being removed from her residence.”

“Her residence?” Blaine winced when he shifted on the bed. Kurt made an involuntary step forward as if to assist him and then abruptly stopped.

Watching the interaction between the husbands, Burt, explained, “Kurt has been living with Rachel for the past two weeks.”

The FBI agent patiently accepted the interruptions and then went on, “When we searched Mr. Kiehl’s apartment we found, what could only be described as a shrine to your husband. He had scrapbooks dating back ten years with almost every public detail of Mr. Kurt Anderson-Hummel’s life. A wall had pictures all over it with dates and details. Your wedding picture had an X through your face.”

Barely believing what he heard, Blaine’s slammed his eyes shut. He lifted a hand and then it heavily fell to the bed. Finger coiled up as he shook his head and looked to Kurt again. The darkness he carried blew apart into a cloud of disbelief. The sheer weight of the information bombarding an already bewildered mind overloaded him. Looking up toward the ceiling, a shiver ran up Blaine’s back followed by a wave of pain. Shooting down his injured leg, be curled his lips in as if he swallowed the discomfort.

Agent Struthers noted the look he waited a few second before going on. “It gets a little more difficult, Blaine. We found video of you and your husband walking down the street, at the theatre, having dinner and having—”

“Woo, woo, what?” Blaine’s voice died away from a shrill high to a silent low. Across from him Kurt’s face fell, revealing his shock.

“Try to stay calm,” Burt placed an arm about his son with a deeply concerned look.

Turning to his dad, Kurt, buried his head in the larger man’s shoulder without taking his eyes from the bed. Alarm filled those blue eyes and his face scrunched up as if he dealt with some new kind of horror.

“You’re telling me that this asshole—” Blaine slammed his mouth shut know that getting angry would not help. When he felt he could, he asked, “There’s more?”

Grinning, the agent replied, “Yes, there is an it will not be easy to hear.”

Father and son exchanged glances and Blaine requested, “Tell me. . . us.”

Nodding, the agent carried on, “We also found recent, graphic video of Mr. Kiehl having intercourse with Mr. Kurt Anderson-Hummel.”

Anger destroyed the look of astonishment on Blaine’s face and then scrunched up as if he could not believe this. Redness tipped his ears and his eyes narrow as he glared at Kurt, who shrank back behind his father. Burt held his son even as he gazed at the agent with a stunned look. The truth hung there like an open wound.

For the first time since stepping into the room, the FBI agent showed a hint of feeling. Taking a step closer, Struthers changing the inflection of his tone to insure he had everyone’s attention, “The report I received on the way here was from the lab. Tests prove, Mr. Kurt Anderson-Hummel was in no means aware of what was happening to him. Mr. Kiehl drugged your husband with a drug similar to GHB which made Mr. Kurt Anderson-Hummel susceptible to suggestion.”

Blaine’s face fell as wild emotion erupted within him. Sitting up straight, his face pulled in as aching, throbbing agony raced up his leg. Staring at the carpet, he felt suddenly ashamed. Everything Blaine believed for the past couple of weeks flew away on the whirlwind. Gulping, he did not know what he felt. Twisting emotion looped deep down in his chest, preventing Blaine from soaking it all in. His uninjured arm came up and his hand pressed against his cheek as he stared at the agent with a bewildered look.

“I don’t get . . . why would he do this?” Kurt moaned in a barely audible voice.

“The NYPD have him at the moment, but my partner is there. He is not telling us much.” Agent Struthers paused before he added, “We have made studies of human nature of people who become enthralled with other people. People do it with celebrities every day. It crosses the line when the infatuation becomes stalking or worse. Mr. Kiehl moved beyond the stalking phase when he started to hack into your phones and internet.”

“The texts,” Kurt choked on the words.

Blaine’s heart leapt with the meek little words and he could not stop a tear from welling up in his eyes.

Struthers glanced at Kurt and nodded. “Yes, we have all those records. When you allowed us to search your apartment, we found cameras hidden in your bedroom, the children’s room—”

“Fuck?” Blaine looked to Kurt, who gazed back with sorrow in his eyes. Dropping his head, Blaine kept his eyes on his husband. “That man was in our home.”

Calmly the agent added, “He placed another camera in the ceiling outside your door and over your building’s front entrance.”

“When did he do this?” Burt’s voice revealed how unsettled he felt.

“As best we can determine, he posed as a repair man seven months ago when telecommunications upgrades were being made to their building,” the agent replied with a look at the congressman.

“Hell.” Blaine felt suddenly violated.

“And working at the theatre?” Kurt’s voice broke and went high.

“Mr. Kiehl had been working on various stage productions for almost two years.” Struthers stepped slightly to the right, so he was not crowding Burt so much. “He signed onto your production through the union. He wasn’t selected at first and later bribed one of the stagehands to drop out so he could take the spot. From what we found in his apartment, he tried to sign up for your first production and was turned down.”

“Then he could have been planning this for a while?” Blaine blurt out.

“We now believe it started here in Lima.” Agent Struthers added, “He moved to New York four years ago after studying electronics and one year of pharmacy. The latter indicates he always planned to drug your husband. To what end, we do not know.”

Regardless of the difficulty, Burt kept his emotions in control, until now. Drawing his son closer to him, he murmured in a low, shaking voice, “The house break in years ago?”

“Things were missing like pictures—” Kurt’s voice sounded strained before it died away. Gazing at Blaine he curled his lower lip over the top looked very upset.

A bubble boiled up from the pit of Blaine stomach turning his innards. In a quiet tone, he muttered, “Our wedding pictures.”

“We’re still piecing it together, but we will have to look into that incident again.” Struthers’ hesitated from Blaine to Kurt and back. “One more thing, Blaine. Have you had unprotected sex with your husband in the six months prior of your accident?”

Stunned, Blaine glared at the agent as the same time Kurt did. Sitting up, he glared at the agent with his head slightly tilted to one side. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh my god,” Kurt’s hands went to his face to cover the terrified look on his face.

Blushing, Blaine’s mind went back to that talk about sex in the garage. He felt stupid and deep inside the walls, he erected crumbled. Tears welling up in his eyes, he asked the agent, “Is Chandler positive?”

“Yes,” Struthers replied.

Hazel and blue meet as Blaine runs his good hand through his hair. With his heart pounding in his chest, a tear rolling down his cheek. In a barely heard voice, he murmured to words before falling silent, “We’ve—”

Wiping his eyes. Kurt blurt out as if to finish the thought, “We’ve never used condoms.”

Burt gave his son a stunned look which changed as if something horrible dawned on him.

“Dad, we’ve been exclusive, other than—” Kurt dropped any rebuttal and his eyes fell toward the carpet.

“I would have yourself tested, Mr. Anderson-Hummel.” Struthers formally suggested to Blaine.

The dam suddenly broke and it all came crashing down on Blaine. AIDS? The loss of Kurt to slow death inflicted on him by a monster crushed the final resistance. Hazel eyes went to Kurt as tears strolled down his cheeks. Kurt looked away and down as shame flashed across his boyishly handsome face. Blaine’s heart wrenched to the up to his throat blowing the overcast from his mind. All of a sudden, Blaine looked at the suffering his husband endured, and released a huge sigh. Then the mattress depressed, and he looked up to see Kurt sitting next to him. His heart skipped several beats and even if he wanted, he would not push the man away.

“Blaine?” The word escaped Kurt’s throat with a sense of profound love.

Finding it hard to look into those captivating blue eyes, he stared at Kurt’s hand and the ring he wore. Remember how he felt when he had the two rings combined, water streamed from his eyes. A different, more profound fear filled his eyes. Blubbering, Blaine asked, “Alex and Kate?”

Hesitantly laying a hand on his husband’s, Kurt said in a compassionate tone, “Insisting they come to Lima may have saved their lives.”

Unfettered tears suddenly erupted from Blaine’s eyes. Grabbing onto Kurt, he pulled him into a tight hug. Hysterically crying, he buried his face into his husband’s shoulder. Every ill thought and wild emotion melted away at his touch of his precious Kurt wrapping his arms about him. What a fool? He had not even given him a chance. He felt like a junior again, desperately singing his grief out to the members of the Glee club. Petty, egotistical, perfection defended his god given right to be correct. The turmoil of his short life taught him little.

Tapping Struthers on the shoulder, Burt suggested they should leave. Nodding, the agent put the notebook away and followed the congressman from the room softly closing the door behind him.

The warmth of Kurt in Blaine’s arms evaporated the last barriers leaving Blaine bare. Enduring the pain shooting up his leg, Blaine crushed Kurt in a renewed bear hug. Bodies twisted into familiar positions as their natural inclination to cuddle took over. Completely overwhelmed by everything. Blaine’s sobs soaked Kurt’s shoulder. Days of angst spiraled away and here he felt a hard block in his chest, a warm sensation grew like new flowers in the spring. Blaine’s chest expanded to its limit several ties and times and then his lips found the soft skin of Kurt’s neck. In response, Kurt leaned into Blaine exposing more of his skin. A shudder ran through Kurt and then they both started to cry forgiving tears.

Crawling along the bed, Kurt coiled himself up around his lover. Blaine twitched with the motion and groaned when the motion shifted a limb. Adjusting himself, Kurt rested his head on Blaine’s shoulder with a huge, content sigh. His body shook and the growth on Kurt’s face scrubbed into Blaine beard creating an odd sensation he did not feel comfortable with. The touch of the cloth covering Kurt’s body felt strange and common, but that did not stop Blaine from wrapping the man up in his arms. Blaine’s nose wiggled— the man did not smell right.

They lay there for a few moments renewing the bond which gripped their hearts on Dalton’s stairs. Stroking his lover back, Blaine quivered with Kurt’s touch as they sniffled through the emotions. Finally, he pulled back so that he could see Kurt’s gorgeous blue eyes gazing at him. Overcome with sentiment, he stumbled on the words escaping his mouth, “Kurt gods . . . I am so . . . so . . . sorry.”

Wiping tears from his husband’s eye, Kurt emotionally replied, “Blaine?”

“I’m such a fool.” Blaine buried his head into Kurt’s shoulder and shook.

“Sh-h-h-h-h,” Kurt gripped Blaine by his head and lifted his face. Placing a soft kiss placed on his husband’s lips, he softly added, “I like this scruffy Blaine look.”

“Look who’s talking.” Smiling, Blaine stared into those blue orbs.

“And a shower.”

“How, I love you.”

“I told you I would never leave you.”

They hugged again and held each other for a moment longer. A quake of pain shot up Blaine’s leg, which he tried to ignore, but Kurt noticed and he tried to pull back. Not letting him, Blaine softly said, “A little pain is my penance. I’ve been such—”

Kurt placed his finger against Blaine’s lips and said, “I had no idea he was there until, he said hello. He congratulated me on making it to the big times asked me that I had been doing since school. I had no idea a monster lurked so close.”

“Kurt, I’m the one who abandoned you. I should feel guilty. I do feel guilty.”

“Never, Blaine. Never.”

“When I saw the two of—”

“Blaine, I should have realized it when he first said hello.”

“How could, you know?”

Kurt hesitated as he sniffled. “It just didn’t feel right.”

“The important thing is you’re alright?” Blaine gently rested a finger on Kurt’s quaking chin and then drew him into a hug again.

Snuggling into the fond gesture, Kurt whispered, “I don’t know about that . . .this is worse than when I was bashed. I’ve not been able to sleep and being alone terrifies me.”

“Oh, my darling,” Blaine held him even tighter. Emotion welled up and in a shaky voice, he announced, “You’ll never be alone again.”

“Blaine, he broke into our home. He did, gods knows what—” Kurt fell silent and his body quaked.

Thinking of how he treated a friend, Blaine tentatively said, “Burt said Rachel walked in on—”

Kurt’s finger touched Blaine’s lips again. “I had a doctor’s appointment. When I got back to Rachel’s, Chandler was there waiting for me. He jumped me from behind and suck a needle in my neck.”

“My god.” The colour drained from Blaine’s face and rolled his head as he tried to sit up.

Holding his lover in place, Kurt said, “I should have waited for Rachel when she paid the cab. I just wanted to get off the street and I ran into the building.”

“Barbara?”

“Jesse had her.”

“Kurt? He could have?” Sobs took Blaine again as he pressed his head into Kurt’s shoulder. Again, they held each other surrounded in sniffling. Flowing water released all the pain and suffering Blaine felt making him feel incredibly thankful.

“It’s alright Blaine. I’m here. You’re here. Our children are safe with my parents.” Kurt shifted on the bed and then Blaine winced. “Am I hurting you?”

“No more than I have hurt myself over the past two weeks. I can’t believe—” the feeling of Kurt’s lips on his stubble brought instant silence.

“Chandler bashed Rachel in the face. Then I jump on him.” Kurt pointed at his shiner.

Jaw hanging down, Blaine moaned, “Oh, my.”

“I started to lose it then, but the neighbours must have heard something.” Kurt shuddered. “They started to yell, and Chandler took off and then I passed out.”

A shiver ran up Blaine’s back as if something suddenly struck him. Struggling to keep his wild thoughts in check, he whispered, “Kurt, are you really alright?”

“It’s nothing a few months in therapy won’t fix . . . I hope?” Kurt squeezed Blaine closer.

Blaine hesitated and his chin quaked against Kurt’s shoulder. “No . . . are you . . . sick?”

“I’ve been tested, but . . . gods, I never thought of you?” Pushing back, Kurt drew in a deep breath.”

“Kurt, don’t.” Blaine squeezed the man he loved tighter and the heads met. “We—"

“Until the agent mentioned it . . . it . . . Christ, Blaine . . . I never thought. I have been in such a muddle. It never occurred . . . I could have?”

“Sh-h-h-h-h,” Blaine stroked Kurt’s hear finding it a little greasy and with no product.

“The test came back negative each time.” Kurt’s voice had more strength to it. “The doctors say I will have to be tested every couple of months for the next two or three years.”

Uncomfortably shifting his leg, Blaine tugged his husband closer while sniffing back his tears. “Kurt, what if it happens, we will—”

“Are you in pain?” Kurt asked. He glanced down at the prone leg and attempted to stand.

Four words send a shock wave through Blaine and he placed a hand on his heart, he said, “In here?”

Kurt stared into eyes for a long second and then softly added, “Are we safe?”

“As in not . . . separate?” Wrapping his arms about Kurt, Blaine pulled him so close it felt the two would merge.

Kurt voice sounded no more than a seductive hush of breath. “I’ll always want you, my curly haired sweetie.”

Blaine pulled his husband close, kissing him on the neck. In response Kurt pulled his shoulders up and giggled as whiskers dug into his skin.

Wiping his tears, Kurt reached into his pocket and his fingers fumbling for a second before pulling out Blaine’s wedding ring with a hopeful look on his face. Taking Blaine’s right hand, he held the ring in front a special finger. “Blaine, will you continue to be my husband?”

Feverously nodding, Blaine blinked back tears as he watched his adorable Kurt push the ring on. Staring at it for a second, he suddenly smashed his lips into Kurt's face.


	6. Wounded Souls

The evening before he found himself completely consumed with unfathomable truths, and heartbreaking guilt. In his mind and heart, the pieces mingled like puzzle pieces jumbled into a bag. One at a time he took one out, hoping it would fit to the next making a bigger mess. Now, that grounded feeling returned, regardless of the work which lay ahead of them, each held a fragment of his joys and despondencies. Words once spoken came and went, leaving little pinpricks in the heart. One, Burt’s speech on how vows change your life rang true when this major pothole left both men feeling bruised, anxious and upset. Boyish charm and teenage dreams faded with breakup, leaving a sense of newness. As boyfriends, they melded together in ways they struggled to understand, but the sharing rings and hallows words enveloped them in sensations creating a scary and all so pleasing bond.

Yes, they latest episode stretched the tether almost to the point of no return leaving Blaine feeling crappy. For days he struggled with the sensation of everything fraying as hurt fought love. In the room with Brittany, Santana and Sue as witnesses, they promised to communicate even when their rage took them beyond words. In his own way Blaine betrayed this vow and others when he stormed off. The darkness of his mind blocked out reason and the way they recovered from the past devastations. Waking up from a drugged state only to find his life turned upside down did not give him those moments to muster the calm a walk to the subway would have.

What else could he blame? Blame? What is blame, but a horrible beast set on keeping the mind from moving forward and the heart from healing. Blame? Part of human nature and one of it's biggest banes. Blame? The act of brooding, something Blaine did all too well.

Last night they cuddled after emptying themselves of tears and allowed the comfort to drag them off to sleep. Barring the occasional need to realign himself, Blaine slept well until he woke with an agonizing jolt which brought water to his eyes. Something rested across his leg adding pressure followed by a sharpness racing up into his rump. The mattress beside him suddenly moved creating sudden fear—why would someone be in his bed? Then he recalled taking a painkiller knowing it always left him feeling foggy. In a way, the morphine in the hospital allowed him to escape the horrors of a single ghoulish vision. The codeine he took at home, made him a little sharper, leaving his dreams with only a dark halo.

Another wave a pain and his eyes flickered open to find Kurt staring down at him in the dim light with a worried look on his face. Relief flashed within his chest because for a second, he forgot the wonderful feeling of falling asleep with his husband next to him. Tightly closing his eyes, Blaine’s sigh drove a fleeting nightmare away.

“Did I hurt you?” Kurt voice rose in pitch as worry filled. Pulling his legs back, worry filled his eyes.

Waiting for the piercing sensation to subside, Blaine lifted his torso, setting his lips to Kurt’s chin and then said, “I know how much of an inconvenience this is, but spooning is uncomfortable right now.”

Kurt sputtered on his word, “Oh . . . ah—"

“Oh, my darling Kurt.” Blaine smiled up at him from the side of the bed he always slept on. “Maybe we should switch sides, then you can lie over me to your heart’s content.”

“But your arm?” Concern etched lines in Kurt’s forehead.

Curling his injured arm over Kurt’s shoulder, Blaine caressed his partner’s ear. “My leg doesn’t like being jarred, but my heart wants to feel your touch. I know how much I would love to have your third leg as snug as a bug in my rug right now. We might have to curtail our lust for a little while.”

Kurt blushed and then withdrew with an uneasy look on his face. Blinking, Blaine’s eyes spun up to the right as he stared off into space.

“Those are hideous?” Kurt commented having noted where his husband’s interest had gone. Kurt almost choked on what he saw. Over the chair hung a pair of expensive pants with the seam cut from the cuff to the hip.

“They work. My mom stitched ties into them so the they could be closed up. Do you want me to freeze on my way to the doctors?” Blaine gave Kurt a sad puppy look.

“I’ll keep you warm.” Kurt started to tickle Blaine and then pulled away when the chuckling turned into a high-pitched groan. “Oh, god, did I—”

“It was just a pinch.” Blaine kissed the dear man on the side of the mouth.

Pouting, Kurt whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Smiling, Blaine said, “Just kiss me.”

Tiny grins met as flesh meshed against flesh. Careful of Blaine’s injuries, he pulled himself up to one elbow so that he could reach his husband easier. The lack of passion frightened him, and some part recognized the challenge ahead while another wanted to hang on for dear life. Healing would take time and, even though he felt disappointed, Blaine did not want to push things. While his heart continued to do somersaults, the pain scratched at it like a cat on its post. Heavens only knew what Kurt suffered.

Kurt’s head fell into the nape of Blaine’s neck where hip slips found days of stubble. Scrunching up, Blaine giggled and then looked to the door. The sound of children in the hall and Pam’s hushed voice interrupted. From where they lay, they could hear a grandmother trying to explain why to the twins why their fathers needed their rest. With one look at Kurt, Blaine called out and the door swung open and two little people raced in. Careful of Blaine’s leg, they climbed up onto the bed to give daddy and papa loving hugs. Better than any medicine, Blaine glowed brightly as he and Kurt interacted with their children. Pam followed by Carole poked their heads in the door. With a fond smile Pam called the twins and they clamoured off the bed only to vanish like tiny whirlwinds.

The early morning visit left Blaine feeling starved. He hungered for Kurt’s affection and with ravenous need he wanted to rekindle the feeling of family. For a short while reveled in it until other needs took over. Kurt helped Blaine from the bed and assisted him to the washroom where an attentive husband allowed Blaine to do his business in private. When he opened the door to leave, he found Kurt standing there with two plastic bags, some tape and a stool. Opening both ends of the bags, Kurt fit them around the casts and then found a pair of scissors. Trimming days of dark hair from Blaine’s face, Kurt the shaved him. Last, he helped his husband into the shower where the hot water rolling down his body made Blaine feel so good. Squeezed into the back of the tub, Kurt gently washed every inch of Blaine, lingering perhaps a little too long on a few hard inches. Getting each other off did wonders, even if it felt a little weird. Both knew what they really wanted, but they backed off knowing they still needed to have that conversation.

Arching his torso. Blaine sunk his head into Kurt’s shoulder. Resting there for a long while, hot water slid off their bodies. Remaining still until his breathing matched his husband, he said in a low voice, “I want you to know, I will always love you, Kurt.”

Leaning forward so his hand raked own his husband’s wet torso. Kurt sunk his lips into Blaine’s the unruly mass of dark hair. Sniffling, he responded, “I love you too.”

Reaching up over his head with his good arm, Blaine held Kurt’s neck. With an aching heart he said, “We have a lot of healing ahead of us, don’t we?”

“There is so much . . . I don’t know—” Kurt began to cry.

Squeezing his neck tighter, Blaine’s voice almost got drowned out by the tumbling water, “Oh, my darling.”

Kurt sobbed a little bit longer and then he said, “I’m going to help you back to bed and then I just want you to hold me until the sun comes up tomorrow.”

It took a little compromising to get Kurt to shave and shower. Blaine lay naked on the bed when Kurt sauntered back into the room in a bathrobe rubbing his hair with a towel. He stopped as hazel caught blue and then a little smile stretched Kurt’s lips. Shutting the door behind him, Kurt undid the tie to the bathrobe, and it fell to the floor. Walking over to the bed, he carefully pulled the blankets out from under Blaine and covered him to the waist. Crawling in, Kurt kissed his husband and then curled up beside him.

They lay together on the bed, with strands of damp hair pressed into the pillows staring at each other. The chest pounded as Blaine snuggled as close to his husband as he could. The warmth of his body next to him felt good, even though he silently worrying. Listening to the inhaling and exhaling of the man beside him, it slowly dawned on Blaine he had no idea how all this affected Kurt. Knowing the what, where and how created more questions than answers. What could he offer to help? Himself? Definitely. Soft words? Oh, yes. Listening? He could do that. Why then did it feel as if he suffocated?

He knew Kurt well enough to know the man would put on a brave face and be stubborn. All the bullying gave him a thick skin, but Blaine knew how fragile he could be. Unlike the bruise on his face, which would disappear in time, the horror in endured would leave deep scars. Fear bubbled up from the pit of his stomach carrying with it the past events haunted mind and soul. With effort, the mind may be able to hide it even if Pandora’s Box lingered in the depths of the subconscious waiting. However, the feelings of belonging and togetherness acted like a thick and comforting blanket. They needed to forgive, even though he knew neither would never forget. For days his anger blinded him to the regret etching dark grooves into his heart. For his sake and that of the man he loved, Blaine had to believe love conquered all.

Running a finger through Kurt’s moist hair, and down over Kurt’s neck, the skin felt clammy. Anxiety took him, and Kurt must have felt it. Before Blaine could speak, Kurt moaned, “I’m afraid.”

The admission shocked Blaine. Unable to think of anything to say, Blaine new of only one-way to express himself. Where the song came from, he did not know, nor did he care. Kurt needed this. He needed this and let emotion take over the melody.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQnAxOQxQIU Savage Garden - Truly Madly Deeply, pretend Blaine is singing)

_I'll be your dream_   
_ I'll be your wish_   
_ I'll be your fantasy_   
_ I'll be your hope_   
_ I'll be your love_   
_ Be everything that you need_

_I'll love you more with every breath_   
_ Truly, madly, deeply do_   
_ I will be strong_   
_ I will be faithful_   
_ 'Cause I'm counting on_   
_ A new beginning_   
_ A reason for living_   
_ A deeper meaning, yeah_

_I wanna stand with you on a mountain_   
_ I wanna bathe with you in the sea_   
_ I wanna lay like this forever_   
_ Until the sky falls down on me_

_And when the stars are shining brightly in the velvet sky,_   
_ I'll make a wish, send it to heaven then make you want to cry_   
_ The tears of joy for all the pleasure and the certainty_   
_ That we're surrounded by the comfort and protection of the highest powers_   
_ In lonely hours_   
_ The tears devour you_

_I wanna stand with you on a mountain_   
_ I wanna bathe with you in the sea_   
_ I wanna lay like this forever_   
_ Until the sky falls down on me_

_Oh, can you see it, baby?_   
_ You don't have to close your eyes_   
_ 'Cause it's standing right before you_   
_ All that you need will surely come_

_I'll be your dream_   
_ I'll be your wish_   
_ I'll be your fantasy_   
_ I'll be your hope_   
_ I'll be your love_   
_ Be everything that you need_

_I'll love you more with every breath_   
_ Truly, madly, deeply do_   
_ (I love you)_

_I wanna stand with you on a mountain_   
_ I wanna bathe with you in the sea_   
_ I wanna lay like this forever_   
_ Until the sky falls down on me_

_I wanna stand with you on a mountain_   
_ I wanna bathe with you in the sea_   
_ I wanna lay like this forever_   
_ Until the sky falls down on me_

When Blaine’s voice died away, Kurt had crawled up Blaine’s lean torso. Careful of the wounded extremities, Kurt’s head rested on Blaine chest as he held him tight. A finger made circles around a nipple of his gym-built chest. Jerking with the emotions he tried to control, he just lay there. 

Rubbing Kurt’s back with the fingers of his injured arm, Blaine quietly asked, “How are you feeling, love?”

“I’m really scared.” Kurt rolled off Blaine and pushed himself up to the headboard with a thud. Covering his eyes, the words which followed came out more like a growl. “For god’s sake, I could be . . . you could be,”

Awkwardly Blaine hauled himself up even though he found the process painful. Taking Kurt’s hand in both of his, he fought back tears. Placing his head against Kurt’s shoulder, he said, “We can survive this, Kurt.”

“Fuck! Jesus . . . that bastard ruined everything.” Tears flowed down Kurt’s cheeks. “I’m . . . I . . . asshole!”

Carefully pulling himself further up the bed, Blaine squeezed the hand he held. Feeling helpless, he did not know what to say, but he had to say something. “You will never be alone, not as long as I’m alive.”

Shifting in a way that would cause Blaine a measure of pain, and relief came when Kurt’s head fell against Blaine’s. Drawing, Kurt’s heavy breathing rustled his partner's hair and then the pressed his lips against the scalp. Physically trembling, Kurt said, “I was a wreck. . . still am. I blew up at Jesse and Rachel several times. I have no idea what they think of me, but I’ve . . . been such a fool.”

Rolling his head gently to one side, Blaine felt stuck.

Loud sobs rocked Kurt’s as his head sunk down onto Blaine’s chest. “Hell . . . I don’t know what to do

“One day at a time my love. I will be there—” Blaine stopped speaking with a knock at the door. The shock took the wind out of Blaine’s sails bringing him back to Earth. Letting out a sigh, Blaine turned to Kurt with apprehension in his eyes.

“Honey, is everything alright in there?” Pam called through the door.

Swallowing, Blaine new he could not lie, and he called back, “Kurt had a nightmare.”

“It there anything I can do, honey?”

“We’re good, mom.”

“Okay, honey. Yell if you need anything.”

The room remained silent for a moment and then Kurt started to laugh and not just a little laugh. Flopping over onto his side, he pulled Blaine’s injured arm with him. Covering his mouth with one hand, he kicked his legs on the bed, he came close to bashing Blaine’s leg. Curling into a ball, he rolled over to face his confused husband with tears in his eyes. “I love your mom.”

Fuzzy brows pressing together as Blaine gave Kurt an odd look. “I love her too.”

“No, Blaine, I really love your mom. I could see her out there preparing to bash the door down.”

“I wasn’t locked.”

“I know.”

“Sometimes, Kurt Hummel?”

“I’m one of a kind.” The naughty grin on Kurt’s face warmed Blaine’s cockles. “Now, you scoot over here and cuddle up.”

Placing another kiss on his husband’s lips, Kurt pulled Blaine into a hug. Melting into the sensation, Blaine felt the tension playing within his loving partner. Enveloping his husband in one arm, Blaine held on and after a few moments he sensed the subtle quivering of Kurt’s body. Fear touched him bringing up the residue of all the rawness and the fact he shook as well. It hurt him to think of the hurt they had inflicted on each other. Pursing his lips to the puff of unruly hair pressed into his chin, he heard Kurt snoring ever so slightly.

Some time later, Blaine stirred when he heard the door squeak. With his eyes open just a slit, the fullness of the setting sun sprayed across the door where a tiny head pop in with a curious look on the face. Alex looked carefully back into the hall and then two squealing children ran into the room and climbing up on the bed. Blaine painful yelped when Kate landed unexpectantly close to his leg, sending a shock wave through his body. Kurt literally jumped out of bed as he pulled away from Blaine to find Alex kneeling at the end of the bed with his hands over his mouth looking horrified. Scared by his father’s abrupt reaction, Kate fell off the bed landing on the carpet where she started to cry.

In an instant Kurt started to roll out of bed to aid his daughter and the blanket slid down his naked body. Beside him, Blaine reacted by found himself curtailed by the discomfort spreading up his hip and down to the bottom of his foot. Bowing his head, he drew in a deep breath as his face went white. Growling, he flopped back on the bed with his eyes closed.

A voice called from the hall and then Carole ran into the room. An eyebrow went up at her son’s nakedness followed by concern for the look on her son-in-law’s face. Going down to her knees beside her granddaughter scooping her up in her arms. Smoothing her hair, she kissed her on the head and whispered something to her. Beaconing Alex after he drew her grandson into a hug and whispered something to him as well. Both children giggled and then looked up at their grandmother.

“Okay, you two, go find grandpapa. He might have something for you.” Carole hugged them both and patted him on the back before they ran off into the hall. Getting up, she followed them out, leaving the door open behind her.

“Are you alright?” Kurt stated as he rolled back onto the bed, the quilt fell away from his ass. “Do you want me to get you a pill?”

Shaking his head, Blaine let the pain wash away, easing his breathing. “No, no, I can handle this.”

“Blaine?”

“Honestly, Kurt I’m fine. I don’t want to get addicted to them, so I use them sparingly.”

Worried, Kurt let out a huge sigh and then his forehead fell onto the pillow. He groaned, “Here I’m worried about myself when you’re—”

Rolling over so his good arm, hand could fall on his husband’s back, Blaine said, “Kurt, please?”

“I know,” Kurt let out a hard puff of air into the pillow and then sat up. Crossing his legs, he pouted. “What a fucking disaster.”

“Kurt, I can’t pretend this has not difficult, because it is. I . . . we.” Blaine rolled his bed back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. Lifting his hand so he could see his wedding ring, he said “Honestly, I don’t know what is going to happen. I look at this ring and I see you with a huge smile on your face standing before me declaring your undying love. I’m trying to wrap my head around all this . . . what the FBI man said . . . what you must feel . . . but, damn it, I’m as scared as you are. I ran . . . I left you . . . it all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, Blaine.”

“Is it?”

“It’s both our faults.”

A head topped with messy, curl hair, struck the pillow with a groan. Before Blaine could say anything, Carole commented from the door, “It’s neither of your fault.”

Twisting to see his stepmother standing there, Kurt hauled the duvet over his nakedness as a deep blush settled into his cheeks. Blaine gasped at the disturbance having not expected it.

Walked over to the edge of the bed. Carole carefully and announced, “Okay, what is this about fault?”

Two men looked at each other not knowing what to say as they protected their naked bodies.

“In reality, none of this is neither of your faults.” Carole leaned her weight against the hand pressing into the bed. “You know better now, so stop all this.”

“But mom.” Kurt objected.

“No, Kurt, you can’t blame yourselves.” Carole gave him a sideways look, “I will grant you it's scary. . . well more than scary. To think someone could go to that extreme for something that happened ten years ago. I don’t know if I will ever understand, but it’s not your fault.”

Adjusting his leg under the sheets, Blaine said to Carole, “But I went off the handle. I yelled at Kurt. If I had not, I wouldn’t be here in two casts.”

“You don’t know that Blaine. Before you give me a rebuttal, let me say, this Chandler might have planned something else but struck at an opportunity. He doesn’t know how you would have reacted.”

“I guess you’re right,” Blaine admitted with a hard frown. “That doesn’t forgive how I treated, Kurt.”

“Don’t give me that look, young man.” Carole cautioned with a cheeky grin. “Burt told me about what the agent said, and this person already had his plan in motion. To me, it sounded as if he set it all up to drive you from Kurt.”

Blaine glanced and Kurt and took his hand in his. “It—”

“Don’t go there, Blaine. The past can’t be changed.’ Carole looked at both men over the rim of her glasses. “What is important is the future and one where the two of you find the strength to forgive and get past this.”

“He almost killed, my . . . Blaine,” Kurt’s Adams Apple bobbed up and down as blue met hazel.

Looking at her son-in-law, Carole said, “And I’m happy he didn’t because I happen to love, your Blaine.”

Kurt’s lip quivered. “I so fuck’n scared. I’m going to . . . and Blaine—”

Grimacing with the stretching of his body, Blaine placed a hand around Kurt drawing him into a one-armed hug. Their heads came together as they tried to find solace in each other’s touch. Uncontrollably shaking, Kurt leaned into Blaine sobbing. Seated in an awkward position, Blaine’s eyes watered as his discomfort became evident on his face. Unwilling to let his darling Kurt go, he endured even though it started to make him light-headed.

Sliding gently across the bead, Carole pulled her son to her giving Blaine relief form the spreading pain. The curly headed boy sniffled as his injured arm got dragged along with Kurt’s shaking body. With a hand resting on Blaine’s cast, a deeply concerned mother held on to her stepson. In a hushed voice she said, “Sh-h-h-h-h, my boy. If the time comes, for either of you, we will deal with it as a family. Remember, you will always be loved.”

Hazel eyes looked passed Kurt to find her staring back. A tear rolled down the side of Blaine’s nose and he suddenly breathed in. In a gravely voice he said, “Kurt, I love you no matter what happens.”

“I will never forgive this prick for subjecting two of my sons to this dreadful disease,” By now Carole also shed tears. “It’s no longer a death sentence.”

Lifting his head, Kurt wailed, “What will happen to Kate and Alex when they find out we are”

“Kurt, our kids are safe. No one will touch them,” Blaine tried not to blabber.

“Damn right, they’ll be safe, loved and with their dads,” Carole did not sound all that positive but the look on her face reassured Blaine. “We are Hummels and Andersons and we are tough and strong. If Finn were here, he would be saying something dumb to get you to laugh.”

“Mom?” Kurt leaned forward and his hand touched her hand.

Looking up, a tear fell and landed on the back of her son’s flesh. “If he were here, he would want to beat the crap out of the little fucker, and I would be there beside him.”


	7. Haunted House

The sound of a revving engine caused Blaine’s heart to race as he hesitated at the threshold. A few moments ago, Rachel, Jesse and Barbara dropped the Anderson-Hummels after meeting them airport with hugs and a few tears. In typical fashion, Rachel chastised Kurt for the note he left the day he vanished with his father to Lima. She, however, gave both men strong embraces and demanded details of their reconciliation, Jesse hushed her up. She fussed over Barbara, who wanted to play with Katherine and Alexander, who found themselves restrained in their child seats. The three kids yelled and screamed, making the ride somewhat enjoyable. 

His anxieties began when the limousine pulled away, leaving the family of four and their mother-in-law standing at the curb next to a pile luggage. Jesse offered to give them a hand getting everything inside, but Rachel had a bee in her bonnet after a short snarling match with her husband. Jesse being Jesse took it all in stride and profusely apologized when the car pulled up to the curb on a cool, but sunny day. 

Standing there with the wind rustling his curls, Blaine felt a little raw. Holding a little hand in each of his, he leaned on his crutches as if they helped hold up the heaviness in his chest. Hazel eyes cycled to the street corner and he shuddered. On a rainy day, three weeks ago his life almost ended shattering a loving relationship with best friend and loving husband. Flashed of pain and the feeling of crumbling bones caused his breath to hitch in his throat. It felt surreally unforgiving to come back to this place, but he knew that he must.

Where had he placed the cameras? Where had Chandler sat in waiting, watching and then taking what the agent called an opportunity? Other than the light over the door, and the intercom, Blaine saw no other electronic devices. Had someone removed them? These and other questions bounced within his head, making him feel uncomfortable. Fear lived in his chest, pressing his heart against his ribs. People walked along the street doing their own thing, paying little attention to the family standing there. Their presence made Blaine nervous though he could not understand why? 

Glancing at Kurt, he could see the discomfort on his husband’s face. Without asking, Blaine knew his partner relived things in a way he struggled to comprehend. Not angry, it felt more like a seething bitterness festering in some quiet corner. The heart tightened in the chest as he watched a glassy expression pass over Kurt’s face. The skin at the top of Kurt’s ears turned red, signaling he overheated, while his chest rose and fell in big swells. He wished Kurt would look his way so he could reassure him, but the man just stared at the front door.

From behind a hand fell on Kurt’s shoulder and Blaine found his eyes drawn to Carole. Her bobbed hair rustled in the wind and she gazed at her son-in-law with tender eyes. A couple talked to their parents often over the last days in Lima speaking of their fears and hopes. Crying often punctuated the serious conversation as everyone started the healing process. At first, he did not want Carole to come along, but now, Blaine thanked the heavens above for her calming presence. 

A feeling of being useless edged into Blaine’s chest as he slowly made his way to the door and leaned against it to hold it open. A moment later the downstairs neighbours stepped out of the elevator with a garbage bag in her hands and stopped at the sight of the jumble on the sidewalk. Putting it down, she offered to help carry the luggage to the elevator, the city forced the landlord to add in the nineties, leaving Carole in charge of the kids. Making three trips from the outside to the elevator, she inquired about Blaine’s health. The fog of his personal ordeal still held Blaine’s memory making him feel awkward. Over the previous week, Kurt had spoken of her watching over the kids while he knelt in the rain beside his stricken husband until the police and ambulance showed up. Profusely thanking her for her kindness, Blaine offered to bake her some of banana bread she loved so much. The middle-aged woman picked up her garbage and walked away, unaware of the larger issues. 

Before Kurt pushed the key into the lock opening the door two little bodies squeezed through with a delightful shriek. Startles, Blaine blinked and found himself scanning the hall for an indication of the camera presence. Apprehension could not describe what he felt when his eyes fell on the shoe storage standing in the dim of the entry. Hobbling forward Blaine noticed the fear in his husband’s eyes and leaned in and kissed on the lips. For a brief second those blue orbs brightened and then they turned weary again. Satisfied with the little offering, 

Satisfied with the little offering, Blaine made his way to the living room where the kids had a trunk open. Hauling out their favourite toys, the playfully pushed at each other. The sight made Blaine think that everything could return to normal, even though the pain in his leg made that impossible.

A thud from the hall and muttering voices caught Blaine’s attention. Eying the couch and a soft pile of pillow to rest his throbbing leg on, he called back, “Honey, can I do anything to help?” 

“I think we have it in hand,” Carole replied from the entry.

Rubbing his forehead, Blaine heard hushed talking rather than the movement of luggage on the tiles. Turning away from the twins, he made his way down the short hall to find a stepmother holding her stepson by the shoulders. The normally sharp angles of Kurt’s jaw drooped and his skin grayer than alabaster. Then Kurt turned and Blaine’s heart fell in his chest. His eyes looked hollow and despondent, revealing a man Blaine did not recognize. Meshing with his own worries he pushed his crutches forward until he stood in front of Kurt. Leaning in, Blaine rested his head on his husband’s shoulder and then wrapped his arms about him as best he could. With a sigh, Kurt eventually reciprocated.

Holding Kurt in this situation felt like heaven and it went a long way in decreasing Blaine’s fears. He felt so warm and just the smell of him lifted his spirits. Gradually their breathing became rhythmic and calmer until the beating of their hearts synchronized. Blaine wanted nothing more than to unconditionally love the man he held.

Clearing her throat, Carole placed a hand onto each of their shoulders and said, “I’ll drag the luggage in—”

“No, no,” Kurt interrupted as he pulled away from Blaine with a frantic look on his face. 

“Kurt don’t argue. You two need this moment . . . alone.” Carole squeezed her son-in-law’s shoulder. “I’ll just line them up in the hall and then I will look in on the twins and the plants. They look a little thirsty.”

Making a face, Kurt objected, “Mom?”

One of Carole’s eyebrows went up and she said, “This is not up for debate, now shoo.”

Gulping, Kurt grinned and then looked to Blaine and said, “You look like you’re in pain. You want to lie down?”

“Do you want to lie down with me?” Blaine countered with a concerned and sideways look at Carole.

Shyly smiling, Kurt replied, “Always.”

“Now, that’s a good boy,” Carole smiled as he went out into the hall and dragged the first bag in. 

Pressing his lightly against his husband’s, Blaine said, “Lead the way, my handsome prince.”

Kurt bowed his head, blushing ever so slightly around the neck and ears. 

“Don’t worry about the kids, boys, I’ll keep them busy.” Carole commented as she placed the large suitcase in the hall behind Kurt. “I’ll knock on the door an hour before the car is supposed to pick us up.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Hummel.” Blaine winked at her. Rachel adamantly insisted they come for dinner, but Blaine did not know if he wanted to go. 

“One day I’m going to break you of that habit, Mr. Anderson,” Carole chided with a smirk. “I’ll make some tea and bring it to you. It’s good for the nerves.”

“Thanks, mom,” Kurt kissed Carole on the cheek and then followed Blaine slowly toward the bedroom. Just as they reach the glass panel door, Alex came toddling down the hall with a happy smile on his face.

“Now run along the two of you and do what you need to do, but keep the noise down,” Carole winked and then bent down to scoop the growing boy up in her arms. Alex squealed and pulled at her hair. Carole beamed and then called toward the living room. “Kate, darling, come and help granny.”

Kate responded with a quick, yes, and ran into the hall and abruptly stopped. Looking sadly up at her daddies, she made a face. Rubbing her hair, Blaine watched Kurt kneel and hug her. Speaking to both children, he said, “Would you like to help granny with the things in the hall and maybe she may have a treat for you.”

The kids hugged their papa back and then trotted off to Carole at the door. Watching, Blaine proudly smiled at his husband and slowly made his way to the bedroom. Pushing the door open, he flicked the switch to turning on the lamps next to the bed. Drawing in a deep breath, he shuddered as his eyes searched.

“Honey?” Kurt asked in a soft voice as wrapped an arm about his husband’s waist.

“It’s dusty,” Blaine sighed, making a face because he could feel Kurt warm body shaking. 

“I know how much you hate dust.” Kurt glanced around with an apprehensive look and then a quick but weak smile. “For now, I want you to lie down and rest your leg.”

“You always have a way with words.” Blaine wanted to be upbeat as he tried to drive the strange feelings of something invisibly standing between them. 

Looking down the carpet, Kurt replied, “I try.”

“You more than try, my love.” Blaine leaned into his husband.

“I’m sorry.”

“Let’s just cuddle and let our love find itself again.”

“Deal.”

Moving to the bed, Blaine gave his lover a fond look while wondering why their togetherness felt off. Landing hard on the edge of the mattress, he winced when he bounced a few times. Grabbing his leg, he twisted his body as he hauled it up flat on the bed, finding it did not relieve the pain. Flopping back, he stretched for the top of the duvet as he strove to reach a pillow. Finger caught the fluffy fabric pulling it back and then he froze as his eyes darted about the ceiling searching.

“What?” The single word escaped Kurt’s mouth like a silent squeak. 

Blaine frowned and then his head turned so a cheek rested against the coverings. At first, he did not want to say anything, but then he thought it would solve nothing. Giving in, he said in a low, almost pained voice, “Cameras.”

Dropping to the bed a little bit away from the injured man, Kurt head turned this way and that. Making a fist, he pressed it against his lips and the visibly shook. His eyes closed and he sat there with his palms against them before falling back onto the bed. Turning his head, he stared at Blaine with a frightened look. 

“It’s okay sweetie,” Blaine said so silently the words could barely be heard. Hazel gazed into blue and his lip started to quiver. 

Keeping his thoughts to himself for a few long seconds, Kurt finally asked, “Is it?”

Thumping his head against the bedding, anger rolled through Blaine’s body. The more he thought about it the sadder he got. Even though his head lay on its side, he bowed it down toward his chest and closed his eyes. “Agent Struthers implied . . . Christ . . . I just don’t know?”

The mattress moved beside him and then he felt a hand cross over his chest to his side. A familiar aroma of shampoo interrupted his grief making him feel better. Rubbing his forehead, he rolled his head up and opened his eyes to find Kurt hovering over him with an equally sad look on his face. Hazel locked on blue bringing Blaine out of his funk just enough to reach up and pulled the man closer. Setting his lips tenderly to Kurt’s. He let his flesh linger there for a long while savouring the moment. He needed this. They needed this. 

“Can I lie next to you?” Kurt tentatively requested when he pulled back less than an inch.

Smiling up at his husband, Blaine could see the rippling of his skin from the way his body quivered. After a quick inhale, he nodded. “I would like that very much, but can I get more comfortable first. My leg is killing me.”

Suddenly overly concerned, Kurt withdrew as if he had done something. Blinking as if a thought came to him, Kurt went to the large chest beside the dresser and extracted the four smaller pillows and placed them on the quilt. Piling them up with the four from the bed against the headboard, he then stepped out of the room. Lying there, Blaine heard the kids' voices along with his Carole. With some effort, Blaine rearranged the pillows and hauled himself up into a half-seated position. A moment later, Kurt returned with more pillows and Carole hot on his tail carrying two mugs of steaming tea. With gentle care Kurt lifted his husband’s leg and placed the new pillows under it. From the side Carole places the teacups on the side table with a warm smile.

The pitter patter of little feet interrupted as the Kate toddled into the room with her brother behind her. Holdings a large stuffed dog in her tiny arms, she stopped at the side of the bed and held it out to Blaine. “Daddy ouchie. Daddy take.”

Smiling at his daughter, Blaine leaned forward, but the dog remained out of reach. Taking it. Carole beamed at her granddaughter and handed it to Blaine, who squeezed it against his chest. “Thank you honey. Snoopy will make me happy again.”

Jumping up and down, Kate clapped and then announced, “I love you daddy, papa.”

“Papa, is sad so I give him, Spidey to save the day.” The little boy produced a plush, red and blue manlike thing. 

Dropping to one knee, Kurt held his arms out to his children and drew them into a soft hug. “We love you both, our little darlings. Papa and daddy are dealing with daddy’s ouchie and need to be alone for a little while. Maybe Grandma will take you both down to the park later to play.”

“Ouchies go away,” Alex boldly stated with a pout.

Glancing at his lover, Kurt smiled, “Yes, ouchies go away.”

Tapping the kids on the top of their head, Carole smiled down at them. “Daddy and papa are tired. Why don’t you choose a book and we can read together? After lunch I will take you down to the park.” 

The twins looked to their fathers and then resolutely strolled out of the room holding hands. Watching them go, Carole sighed and then looked back at the two young men and nodded. Walking out, she quietly closed the door behind her. Kurt crouched there for a moment longer and slowly stood. Sitting on the end of the bed, he stared at the toy in his hands.

“They know,” Blaine said as he stared at his husband’s back while squeezing Snoopy against his chest. The stuffed animal no longer looked as white and it smelled of age. Kate slept with the foot and a half tall black and white dog since the children came home. They had pictures of the twins cuddled up against each other with Snoopy and Spidey standing guard.

“Yeah.” Nodding, Kurt let out a deep sigh. Biting his lip, he asked in an almost silent voice, “Can we survive this?”

“I want us to try.” Blaine sounded less than confident. Looking up to the corner of the room his eyes went back to the end of the bed and his husband’s back. “Kurt, there is nothing more important than you and our children in all the world. I knew that before and I know it even stronger now.”

Glancing back of his shoulder, Kurt looked at Blaine with a funny half pout, half smile. For a second he looked as if he considered something and then he scooted up the bed. Leaning sideways against the pillows, he did not touch Blaine, but gazed at him with a hint of admiration. His head drooped to one side and then he reached out and placed a hand on his husband’s bicep and squeezed it. Rolling his lips back and forth, Kurt replied, “Yes, I want to try. It’s not going to be easy, and not because of you. I want you to understand that, Blaine, it has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh, but it does.” Blaine stretched his head and kissed the top of Kurt’s head. “I’m so sorry, I yelled at you and ran off.”

Rubbing his husband’s stomach, Kurt pleaded, “We have been through this Blaine. I’m sorry too, but I had no idea.”

“As Struthers described what you went through, I . . . I died inside. Believe me, I accept it now.”

“But?”

“The last couple of days in Lima were wonderful. I’m happy we had the time, but coming home feels . . . I don’t know. It feels off.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of spooky when you think of—” Kurt closed his eyes and his head dropped down toward his chest

Feeling suddenly unhappy, Blaine said in hushed tones, “The FBI said nothing about removing them. We really haven’t looked around.”

Lifting his head, Kurt gazed into Blaine’s eyes. “Ever since we got back to New York I’ve been looking for strangers lurking in corners.”

“Oh, Kurt.” Blaine found comfort in those blue orbs. Reaching out, he tried to pull Kurt close, but the other man resisted. Disappointed, he added, “I want to feel you cuddled up against me. I want to feel us again. I want to forget it ever happened.”

On his own terms, Kurt wrapped an arm across Blaine’s chest and rested his head on his husband’s ribs being careful of the two casts. Breathing in and out a few times he said, “You do feel like home to me. You always have.”

“At times it feels as if I have known you forever.” Blaine stroked Kurt’s hair feeling that ethereal tug in his heart he felt when he raced down a set of stairs. Recalling the sensation of destiny, he contently sighed even though he felt as if something distant and menacing stretched him perhaps a bit too far.

“Me too. Yeah, I came to spy that day, but I found something I never expected. Seeing you speed by made me so excited. I knew you Blaine, don’t ask me how, but I did.”

“At times it feels we have been together for ten years.”

“And the squabbling is our bodies catching up with our souls.” Pressing his head into his partner’s chest, Kurt eyes scanned the room. Irritated, he moaned, “It feels . . . like something has been lost.”

“I saw us falling apart. I fell apart, but . . . I don’t know?” Blaine started to cry. Swallowing hard, he pulled himself quickly together and added, “I do know that I can’t do this without you. If I have learned one thing from this mess, is that I love you with all my heart. I know we can beat this.”

“Our home scares me. It feels empty and—” Kurt started to shake. Holding each other through another emotional episode. “I can feel his eyes leering at me like some ghost haunting this room. I’ve been waiting for him to jump out of a corner.”

“When we got out of the car all I could look at the place where I was hit. I could feel myself flying and—” Blaine pressed his head into Kurt’s hair if only to breath in the scent. The mixture of jasmine and rose always conjured up a sense of calm, but in this case, it brought more tears, “I love you Kurt. I love our children, families and friends. I’ve even come to love New York, but I no longer love this place. I want to start anew, in some other place.”

“You want to leave New York?”

“No, I want to find another park where we can walk hand in hand, watching our children play.”

“Me too.”

“But, stepping through that door felt suffocating. I feel as if I have lost something I will never get back. I feel . . . I don’t know what . . . but I know it's not right.”

“You have always made me feel safe, Blaine. Even when I’m mad at you I still feel safe. With all the trouble we had in school, I’ve learned I can’t depend on just myself anymore.” 

“You’ve always been stronger than me.”

“You’re that soft, silent strength which binds people together, Blaine. You may not have seen it, but everyone at school did. You helped people by just being you. You helped me.”

Blaine squeezed Kurt tightly. “Now could I not? You were just so damned cute.”

Chuckling for the first time since they got out of the car the sound brightened the room and then everything went abruptly silent. Kurt pressed his fingers into Blaine’s stomach, and asked, “Do you think he brought me here and—”

“No, Kurt. No.” The brain flipped over to automatic and the words just flew out. The idea made him feel sick. 

“I can’t be sure,” Kurt buried his into Blaine’s neck. “I don’t remember any of it. He would have done all sorts of things.”

Glancing up at the ceiling, Blaine struggled with a reply, yet he knew he had so day something. “Kurt, honestly, I do not know. I want to think he did nothing to you and I know that is not true. I . . . I want to be with you always. I want to get past this. I want to fix us.”

“I want us back too, but how, Blaine? How?” Kurt started to sob and forcefully squeezed Blaine tight. “I don’t want to die.”

The words struck like a bullet to the heart sending shivers up and down Blaine body in a manner he could not explain. Radiating out from his core, it felt as if it did not belong to this world. Numbness took the heart pounded in his chest. Swallowing hard, he did not want to cry but he could not stop himself. Burying his nose into Kurt’s hair, his stomach turned over and he felt the agony in his soul surpass anything he had sensed before. A man in Regency attire strolled empty halls in the middle of the night with a broken heart. The man he loved left that day to do his duty and continue the line. The sight in the back of his mind shook Blaine, because he felt the misery there, and in himself. Two centuries ago men could not be with men for fear of life, position and imprisonment. Today, men could be with men, even if the world did not always accept. The sight of suffering flashing in the depths of his mind felt ageless and familiar. In the very depths of his being, Blaine willed a happy ending, which may never see the light of day. Ever since Struthers brought up the testing, Blaine felt panicked every time he thought of it. 

The man he held moved as he drew in a deep breath and snorted it back out. Sniffling, Kurt said, “Blaine. I don’t want to abandon you with two children. I want to grow old and give my children away to someone they love. I want—”

“Kurt it’s not going to happen. We might be on a roller coaster, but we have the warmth of our love to mend us. You need me Kurt, just as I need you. I feel useless right now, but at the same time I feel the strength we both have. The ship will not sink because we have each other as life jackets. I’m here for you and together we can cry and make this all better. Our children will know us as old men and each day of our long lives, I will know you are mine and I’m yours.”

A drop of water fell from the wrinkles of an old man’s eye. Old Blaine knew honest words when he heard them, and these had come from the heart. Lowering his head onto the forearm of the man he loved, aging eyes peered up at those heavenly blue orbs gazing blankly at the carpet. Seven decades of marriage defined them and an old man could not be prouder.


	8. Help

A husband wanted everything to return to normal, even though reality conspired to do something very different. Events haunted them, but, as the days moved on, it became less of a tragedy and more of a combination of tiny triumphs. Thinking back, old Blaine could still feel the hurt they inflicted on each other and then odd sense of newness. New, in that their love may have been bruised but never fading. New, in the sense they took a huge step into the future. New, in the fact Blaine finally learned to accept his faults. New, in the manner in which Kurt remained lovable Kurt. New, because the darkness pulled back revealing a sparkle of a brilliant future.

Over the years those hard days became something to chuckle about. He remembered rejoicing the day they took the crutches away only to discover a new form of uncomfortable. Vanity demanded Blaine not use a cane, but his leg did not listen. An old man recalled the feeling of being depressed while events caused the two lovers to treat each other with increased care and love. Kurt surprised Blaine with a fabulous dinner and flowers the weekend Carole departed. One high spot did not make everything perfect as circumstances forced Kurt to work more hours and did all the running around. Even though the landlord sympathized, they dug into the emergency fund to pay the back rent while the arguments with the insurance company dragged on. 

Notwithstanding Blaine’s arguments, the doctors told him to keep it light, which equaled no paycheque. This frustrated Blaine, who ended up ignoring instruction. Okay, he worked from home where he could watch the kids. They had a production to resurrect and it proved harder than they would have thought. June remained confident and the Arts Foundation of New York reminded flexible though they demanded a medical report. With the summer shows, in full swing, it meant a further aggravation. The couple wanted to prove they could do it and help hold the two of them together ever though his darling husband had trouble sleeping without taking a pill. Even though Blaine’s arm healed, one day his leg would feel fine and the next he would find it hard to get out of bed. Snuggling in the morning proved a tedious adventure.

Emotions flared when Kurt began a regular schedule of counseling and they set up his quarterly blood tests together. The intrusions of the FBI and the New York police grew less frequent as the lawyers took over leaving them long bouts of hearing nothing. The couple had already met with the district attorney three times and knew they would have to live through this again in court. As the days rolled by, Kurt became skittish about the prospect of reliving the few things he did remember. The prosecutors and FBI told him much of what they had found, but he feared what else would be dredged up. The experts would come first to lay the groundwork and then Blaine followed by Kurt. Told to expect the trial to take three to four weeks did not make it any easier.

Near the end of the first week following Carole departure, and after a particularly bad morning with fidgety kids, Blaine vented to his mother over the phone. That evening, someone knocked on the door Blaine opened the door to find Pam standing there with a suitcase in tow. Without warning, Blaine threw himself into his mother’s arms drawing her in a huge hug. Seconds later Kurt popped his head around the corner holding Kate in his arms. Alex stumbled up behind Kurt and bumping into his legs wearing nothing. A husband stood there with an odd look on his face as Blaine cried into his mother’s shoulder.

Pam’s calm presence and love eased tensions between two overwhelmed young men. She pampered the boys with dinners and let them to sleep in the days Kurt’s schedule allowed. Her presence provided a breath of fresh air and one morning, Blaine woke to the feeling of his husband’s erection pressed up against a willing hole one morning. The feeling of those lost inches easing in felt like heaven and for a while Blaine forgot about the thumping of his leg until the discomfort overrode the pleasure. Wanting to continue in a different position and purpose, Kurt would not allow him to reciprocate. Considering events, it turned out to be a good start.

Pam’s work allowed her to take family related leave of absence, but she only had five days. To the couple’s surprise Cooper showed up the day before Pam had to leave. Like a ball of fire, the normally self-centered man bounced through the door and into the boy’s tiny abode for the first time. Dropping his bag, he greeted a surprised Blaine with a hug followed by sarcastically voiced opinion about how far money went when renting in New York. 

The eldest Anderson boy greeted his mother with a soft kiss on the cheek more to prevent her from wagging her finger in his face. Cooper took over that evening as he played with the twins while telling the adults about his exploits. A pillow hit him in the head when he started to speak about his co-stars and what happened behind closed doors. Kurt growled at him that the kids did not need to hear such things. A brother-in-law retorted by saying the twins would know what he talked about. A wet dishcloth in the side of the head, made the kids and Kurt laugh. A sourly faced mother stood in the kitchen threshold with her arms crossed. 

“Coop, stop giving them sugar,” Blaine complained as he hobbled down the hall from the bedroom to the living room. The sound of high-pitched screaming gave him a headache without deadening his love for his little bundles of joy. Their mother left three days before, and Cooper’s influence drifted through the apartment like a windstorm depositing stuff everywhere.

“It’s only juice, daddy’O,” Cooper called back from the living room where his travel bag sat under the window in a heap. 

“They’ll cry and keep us up all-night.” Blaine noted the week-old pile of laundry stuffed into one side of the bag. 

Giving his brother an impish grin, Cooper replied, “You’re used to the crying.”

“But you’re not or is there something you haven’t told mom and I yet.” Blaine sighed as he watched his daughter pull at the unwashed clothing. “Coop, there are laundry machines in the basement.”

Cooper shot his brother a charming grin and retorted, “I’m practicing for my next episode and I’ll get to it eventually.”

Rolling his eyes, Blaine stood under the arch leaning on his cane looking a bit tired. “If that’s the reason you’ve come, you can pack up and leave.”

With Alex wrapped in one arm and with Kate crawling in his bag, the taller brother, gave Blaine an odd look. Pointing, Cooper smiled and announced, “My you’re cranking today. Remember, I’m here to help.”

“You will find out what help is later tonight when they keep you up and this evening when you do your laundry.”

“Just kick Kurt out of bed and he can take care of it.”

“He’s taken on an extra shift to help out, so you can just get off that hairless butt of yours and go flirt with Mabel down in the laundry room for a couple hours.”

“So, he’ll be used to working long hours.”

“Cooper?”

“Okay, I said I’m here to help. Beside mom gave me shit for not coming to see you when you were laid up in Lima.”

“If I phone her now, she’ll give you crap again,” Blaine gave his brother a look as he slowly made his way to the couch. Carefully sitting down, Kate detached herself and bounced toward her father. She slowed when Blaine raised and hand and then she carefully climbed up on the couch. Snuggling up to her father, she leaned her head on Blaine’s stomach. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t play with you.” Blaine apologized to his daughter. The words killed him because he loved his children as much as he loved Kurt. The current situation made him feel bad for his children, but he knew they understood as best they could.

“Daddy ouchie,” Kate smiled up at her father.

“Daddy needs to stop milking it,” Cooper happily chided.

Wrapping an arm about his daughter, Blaine kissed her on the top of her head. “Uncle Cooper is here to be your punching bag.”

“Ouch!” Cooper exclaimed as a little boy smashed a fist into his shoulder. Grabbing Alex, he began to tickle the little boy who loudly screamed. 

Kate squirmed with the screech as if she held back a reciprocating yell. Suddenly she stopped and traced the edge of the metal brace encasing young Blaine’s leg with her tiny fingers. An old man remembered the moment with fondness because the twins always looked up to the love both men shared. Alex became randy and caused problems when he discovered himself while Kate kept herself for the right man. Kurt and Blaine had always assumed she lost her virginity during high school, but no, it did not happen until her wedding night. As for Alex, they both figured it might have been the night of the junior prom by the way he walked funny the next day.

The twins forever surprised their parents, especially when their hugs came in the form of knee wraps. In the beginning Blaine fretted every time one of the twins would get close to his leg. Other than those moments when their excitement overpower them, they revealed fear of the cage. In turn, this turned into curiosity and fond moments like this one. Kate’s examination of the brace showed how her mind worked. 

Rubbing Kate’s back, Blaine tried not to let his trepidations show. Emotional and physical wounds lay open and he needed to be strong for his children, for himself and especially his darling Kurt. Watching his brother with his children became a bright spot as they went about their day screaming, crying and giggling. Cooper picked up the slack as he made funny faces mixed with entertaining voices.

He smiled at his brother as Alex crawl over him and Cooper winced when a small foot landed in a private place. Head tolling to one side, Blaine could see his brother holding back the need to swear. Kate laughed at his contorted face, forcing Blaine to stifle a chuckle. The timing could not have been better, because Blaine felt unsettled. Kurt tootled off this morning in a bit of a funk and his texts seemed flat. 

“Alex, be a little more careful with your uncle.” Blaine gave his son the humourous, one raised eyebrow as a warning.

Rolling off his uncle, Alex innocently said, “I give you ouchie.”

Trying to hold his discomfort in check, Cooper weakly smiled at Alex. “A little ouchie.”

Leaning forward, Alex kissed Cooper’s hand, bringing a smile to Blaine’s face. Children at their age had no inhibitions and took everything at face value. Too young to understand what Cooper experienced, Blaine sympathized with his brother. 

“Sorry uncle Pooper,” Alex giggled.

“Uncle Pooper,” Kate yelled and then she rolled off the couch leaving Blaine cringing from the sudden pressure on his leg. 

“Pooper, pooper, uncle Pooper.” Alex called out as he fell on top of Blaine’s brother again. 

“Uncle Pooper is going to be a pooper on you.” Cooper grabbed Alex and began to tickle him. Even though he wrestled with two young children, he ensured a sensitive part of his midsection stayed out of the danger zone.

From the couch Blaine saw the look of pain etch across Cooper’s face. Sliding to the edge of the couch, Blaine spoke to the twins in a stern voice. “Kate, Alex, let your uncle go.”

Two innocent faces turned toward the couch where, Blaine looked uneasy. The kids stopped in mid-motion and fell onto their rumps with a pout. Behind them, the older Anderson boy looked a little uncomfortable as he rolled onto his side just as the doorbell rang. Two tiny heads popped up and then Cooper slowly inched back toward the wall. 

“Kate, Alex.” Blaine reached out with two arms beaconing them over.

Kneeling, Cooper made a face and then ruffled the twin’s hair and Kate let out a squelch. With a hint of pain in his voice, the older Anderson said, “Let me get the door and then we can play some more.”

Head leaning to one side, Blaine said to his children, “How do we act when we answer the door?”

“We are quiet and good.” Kate answered and Alex nodded.

“Now come here and give me a hug while your uncle sees who is at the door.” Blaine smiled at his children spreading his arms wide while trying to ignore the pounding between his ears.

Alex and Kate looked at each other and trotted toward their father. Aware of the cage covering their father’s leg, they waited for Blaine to lean forward and wrap his arms about them. Smiling, the two little bundles of joy, they hugged him back. Enjoying his children’s affections, Blaine watched Cooper gingerly walked out into the hall as the doorbell rang again.

Cooper looked back with a relieved look on his face and said, “You expecting anyone?”

Lifting his head, Blaine replied, “No and it’s too early for Kurt to come home. I hope it’s not the police, again.”

The doorbell rang again, and Cooper got up and vanished behind the wall.

Snuggling with his kids, Blaine rubbed their backs, and said, “Daddy wants you to be more careful with old uncle Cooper. He’s not as young as he once was.”

“I heard that, Blaine.” Cooper shot back down the hall.

The twins giggled, and Blaine smiled. Kissing Kate and then Alex, he added, “When uncle Pooper gets back, we can have some ice cream.”

The twins glanced at each other and then looked toward the hall when the front door opened followed by hushed voices. A moment later the door closed and something heavy hit the floor. Curious, Blaine called out, “Coop, who is it?”

No one replied, and Blaine started to squirm his way to the edge of the couch. Kate and Alex stepped away as his daughter picked up the cane offering it to his father. In a fond tone, Blaine said, “Thank you sweetheart.”

“Don’t get up, for me,” a familiar female voice said from the hall. Two children stood there puzzled while Blaine looked up to see his cousin standing there in a full-length overcoat with Cooper standing behind her. Throwing her arms wide, she proclaimed, “Surprise!”

“Trish?” Blaine sounded surprised as he put weight on the cane to help him stand.

“No,” Trish held up a hand. “Sit, Blaine.”

Sinking back into the couch, the spike of pain shooting up his leg faded. Biting his lower lip, Blaine glanced at the twins and suddenly realized they had not met his cousin before. Placing a hand on their tiny shoulders, he leaned close to them. “Alexander, Katherine, this is my cousin Trish, your great-uncle Fred’s daughter. You remember great-uncle Fred.”

Two sets of round eyes peered at their father and Alex said, “He gave me a Kawla.”

“Yes, great uncle Fred gave Kate Alfie and you Kawla.” Blaine fondly remembered the stuffed animals at the foot of their bed. “Now, why don’t you go give Trish a nice hug.”

Without reservation, the kids walked across the short distance and Trish crouched down with outstretched arms. Hugging the children, she kissed them both on the cheeks and then looked to Blaine sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the couch. Out of view of the kids, she looked to the crutches leaning against the wall before giving her cousin a concerned look. 

“You bring me a toy?” Alex blurted out.

“Yes, I did,” Trish looked each of the kids in the eyes. “I heard your father say something about ice cream. I would like some and maybe Cooper and your dad would like some.”

Two children nodded with gleeful faces.

Glancing at Cooper, Trish asked, “Could, you take care of this while I go over and give Blaine a proper greeting.”

Grinning, Cooper bent down and said to his niece and nephew, “Vanilla, chocolate or strawberry.”

“Strawberry!” Kate’s voice rose several octaves.

Alex excitedly yelled, “All three.”

Smiling, Cooper wiggled his head back and forth and said, “Race you to the fridge.”

The kids took off with Cooper trudging slowly along behind them. He glanced back with a knowledgeable look on his face.

Watching them go, Trish smiled and then turned to Blaine. Walking toward the couch, she said, “They’re wonderful.”

“And complicated,” Blaine beamed at his favourite cousin. Following his trip to Seattle they stayed in weekly contact. Unlike his other relatives, she phoned regularly while he lay in bed back in Lima. “It’s good to see you, but what are you doing here?”

“I’m wave three, Blaine.” Trish bent down and kissed Blaine on the cheek before carefully sitting on the couch. “Before you go off the handle, I was talking to your mother and she said you needed help. I took three weeks vacation and here I am.”

“You didn’t need to do that.”

“Cooper’s going back to LA the day after tomorrow and Pam tells me things are a bit tense.”

“Sometimes I wish—”

“Blaine, don’t. Your mom, Burt and Carole are worried. What you two have been through boggles my mind. I was thinking you might need my professional opinion on some matters.”

“So, you came here as a shrink?”

Giving her cousin a look, Trish shook her head. Glancing toward the kitchen where Cooper dished out the treats, she asked, “Blaine, what do you think?”

Rolling his eyes, Blaine’s head fell back on the cushion and sighed. “Sorry.”

Lowering her voice, Trish asked, “You’re feeling stretched, again?”

Sighing, Blaine admitted, “Yeah, you can say that.”

Patting her cousin on the arm, Trish added, “I love you and Kurt. The two of you are special to me and if I can help, I will do what I can. Besides, I would like to get to know those darling children of yours.”

“Trish, it’s good to see you,” Blaine admitted with a bright smile as he wrapped her up in a hug. Lowering his head onto her shoulder and hung on for a few seconds. Eventually, he admitted, “I can really use your wisdom.”

“Dearest Blaine, you will always have that.” Trish sat up straighter as Kate and Alex strode over carefully carrying a small bowl of ice cream in two hands. Cooper followed, carrying a heaping helping for himself, two small bowls for the kids with napkins and a cluster of spoons on a tray.

Staring at his brother, Blaine asked, “Did you know Trish was coming?”

Shrugging as he closed the space between the kids and himself, Cooper grinned. “Nope. Came as a surprise to me. Now, she can do the laundry.”

‘Not in your life, cousin.” Trish shot Cooper a deadpan look as she reached out and taking a bowl offered to her, Trish said to the child, “Thank you, Alex. Now, why don’t you sit beside me.”

“I want to sit beside you,” Kate spoke up. She almost dropped the ice cream in Blaine’s lap. He might be aching, but Blaine’s reflexes remained sharp as he caught the bowl.

Scooting across the couch, Trish provided space for a child on either side of her. Both kids started to crawl up onto the couch and then Kate stopped. Wide-eyed, looked back at her treat on the tray and slid squirmed to the edge of the couch. She stopped when Trish, said, “Uncle Cooper will hand me your ice cream and I will give it to you.”

Smiling Kate climbed up again as Trish leaned forward, putting her dish down. Taking the two tiny bowls offered by her cousin, she handed one to each child followed by small spoons. Each child smiled and dug into the cold treat with their legs sticking out in front of them. 

“What do you say to your uncle Cooper?” Trish asked the kids.

Both grinning, the Katherine said in a soft voice, eyeing up her ice cream, “Thank you.”

“Thank you, uncle Pooper,” Alexander’s voice overlaid, his sisters, though the last word had a life of its own. 

“You’re welcome, my little cuddle bunnies,” Cooper replied as he sat cross-legged on the other side of the coffee table. Giving his cousin a look, he added, “And don’t go there.”

Blaine and Trish exchanged looks and then he said, “There’s a story.”

“I bet there is,” Trish gave the older Anderson boy a look as a child leaned against her. Peeking at the child, Trish ate her ice cream in tiny bites. Her head moved from side to side as has she watched Alex and Kate carefully enjoy their treats. She smiled fondly at each and then she looked to her cousins and said, “They're so lovely, and probably a handful.”

“Wait until it is time to put them down,” Cooper countered with a roll of his eyes.

“That teaches you for getting them high on sugar,” Blaine chided with a mischievous smirk.

“And this is helping?” Cooper held up a spoon full of ice cream.

“Cooper, it's not good for them to have that much sugar.” Trish shook her head followed by swallowing a scoop of strawberry brain freeze.

“Look to him,” Cooper pointed at his brother and then half his mound of ice cream vanished in two large scoops. “I’m just experimenting for when I have kids.”

Chuckling Blaine said, “You have to get a steady lady friend first.”

“I can always do what you did, Blaine or adopt.” Cooper leaned forward and stared at his niece and nephew. “Would the two of you like to come home with uncle Cooper.”

A stern look erased the gentleness of Kate’s face and then she yelled, “No!”

“No?” Cooper looked shocked as he placed a hand on his heart.

Glaring at her uncle, Kate proudly announced, “No.”

Cooper’s head fell on the coffee table with a thud as he feigned a mortal wound. 

“Pooper’s funny,” Alex giggled as he put his almost empty bowl down on the cushion and slide off the couch. Moving quickly Trish caught it before it and the spoon crashed to the floor. 

Running around the table, Alexander jump onto Cooper’s back and the adult rolled away from the table picking him up in his arms. Holding the child over his head, he stared up at him with a funny look on his face. Laughing, Alex squirmed and then suddenly threw up on Cooper’s neck and shirt. Blaine’s brother’s eyes went wide with disgust.

Bouncing on the couch, Kate laughed and pointed. The tiny bowl slid from her hands and toppled to the floor where the remaining ice cream spilled out of the spoon. Instantly freezing, she looked at the mess with an anxious look on her little face. Biting her lower lip, she looked to her father who tried to shuffle forward on the couch. 

“Blaine, relax, I got this,” Trish said as he bent down and picked up the bowl and spoon placing them on top of hers. Getting up, she strolled to the kitchen and ran back with three damp cloths. Handing to each of her cousins, she kneed beside Alex and cleaned him up. Cradling a messy little boy in her arms, Trish wiped his face and then picked him up. Walking to the washroom she softly spoke to the child. 

“Sorry, daddy.” Kate gazed at her father with unsure eyes. 

Watching his cousin leave, Blaine glanced to his daughter. Reaching out to her, he pulled her close and hugged her. “It’s alright dear. A little spill never hurt anything.”

“Speak for yourself,” Cooper said as he stared the front of his t-shirt. Looking around, he noted the child’s mishap had not made it to the floor. Tugging the fabric over his head to reveal a chiseled body, he chuckled. “Serves me right.”

Blaine nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself while cuddling his pouting daughter. His eyes went down to the carpet and his heart rose into his throat. The little pile of melting ice cream reminded him of the life he had to clean up.


	9. Picnic

“I’m home,” Kurt called out as soon as he stepped through the door. Putting his satchel down beside the shoe cabinet, he dropped his keys in the bowl on top of it. Smiling at the blooms sitting in a small glass vase, he knew where they came from.

“Hey, honey, I’m in the bedroom, changing Alex,” Blaine called back. Looking up from the bed, he recognized the edge in his husband’s voice and his head drooped. Alex’s eyes opened with excitement and he squirmed toward the edge of the bed.

“I’m in the kitchen, darling,” Trish’s voice overlaid Blaine’s.

Cooper yelled, “I’m on the toilet.”

Kurt’s surprised voice echoed in the hall, “Trish?”

“Yup, in the flesh” the doctor replied as she stepped into the hall. Turning the corner, she noted the bewildered look in Kurt’s eyes and offered him a hug. “Now, don’t fret. I’m not going to be as much of a problem as your brother-in-law.”

Kurt shrugged into the hug and enjoyed the moment.

“I know you didn’t know I was coming Kurt. I hope it is not too much trouble, but I wanted to see the twins and to offer what support I could.”

“It is good to have you here, though I feel like I am living in a hostel.”

“Rest assured, Kurt, I’m not a pretentious actor.”

“Hey?” Cooper complained through the closed door.

Chuckling, Kurt tightened his grip on Blaine’s cousin.

A half-dressed Alex burst out of the bedroom with a high-pitched squeal of delight. Crashing into his father, he hugged his leg as tightly as he could. Not to be outdone, Katherine scampered down the hall from the living room to greet her papa. Squeezing his two little darlings into a group hug, Kurt crouched down and lowering his head between their little heads. Accepting their kisses, a genuinely happy smile blossomed on Kurt’s face.

Leaning against the door frame with his cane in his right hand, Blaine joyfully watched Kurt interacted with his children. Many times, Blaine found himself thankful for his two little miracles. While Kurt did not always greet Blaine with the enthusiasm he desired, the man never revealed his hesitation to his kids. Regardless of his stress, something about having Kurt home, warmed Blaine’s heart. The adorable man must have sensed Blaine’s gaze because blue found hazel releasing tension. The soft look on his husband’s face brightened Blaine’s day lifting him from the moody place he had been. As the days rolled on moving around got easier to get around, but the doctor cautioned him against overdoing it until physiotherapy began.

Kneeling down Trish smiled at the twins winking at each. In a soft voice she said, “Would like to help me get ready in the kitchen?”

“Okay,” Alexander answered with a look of concern on his face. His sister cutely shrugged.

Holding out her hands, Trish led the little ones away while telling them a little story.

Left by himself, Kurt let out a huge sigh and then glanced up at Blaine. His husband wore a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts with the clunky brace over the cast. The two shared a soft smile and then Kurt picked himself up and walked over to his cute lover. Coming to a halt a few inches away and he placed his head on the other man’s shoulder. Instinctively. Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt drawing him into a tender hug. Every day since they came home, the two of them went through a similar ritual. Sometimes it lasted mere minutes and then at other times Kurt hung on as if for dear life. Today seemed to be a dear life moment, and even though he did not know what to do, Blaine would not let go.

After a long while, Blaine lifted Kurt’s chin and gazed into those stunning eyes. Smiling, he said in a low voice he said, “Welcome home.”

The grin on Kurt’s face eased Blaine’s fears and he leaned in for a kiss. At that very moment the washroom door flung open, allowing the sound of a refilling toilet to escape. Cooper stood there in jeans, and no shirt, scratching his belly. In a low voice he said, “There’s nothing like a good dump.”

“Coop?” Blaine objected rolling his eyes.

His brother shrugged, “What?”

Before Blaine could retort, Trish called from the kitchen, “Cooper get in here.”

With a frown, Cooper shrugged and walked toward the kitchen. From down the hall, he heard Cooper chuckling and Trish making a politely offhanded remark.

Shaking his head, Blaine turned his attention back to his husband, but before their eyes met, Kurt pushed him gently toward the bedroom. Hobbling backward Blaine glanced behind him, to see where he went. The moment Blaine bumped into the bed, he pulled his love into his arms. Heads resting on each other shoulder’s Blaine felt the stress drain from Kurt’s muscles. Most mornings Kurt did not look forward to going to work and today had been particularly hard. Luckily, it turned out to be a half day, giving them a chance to be themselves. Unfortunately, they had a full houseful and Trish would understand where Cooper stuck his nose in everywhere.

Kissing Kurt gently on the neck, Blaine whispered, “It’s so good to hold you.”

“You have always been my pillow.” Kurt’s voice had a trembling edge to it.

“Bad day?” Blaine softly asked followed by another kiss. Conflicting sentiment squeezed the muscle in the center of his chest.

Leaning his head against Blaine’s, a husband breathed deeply saying nothing. He did not have to because his body told the story. “Yeah, you could say so. I just didn’t feel it and I made few mistakes.”

“Well, you’re home now, and we’re going to the park,” Blaine said.

Lifting his head, Kurt gave his husband a worried gaze. “Are you up to it.”

“I’ve been trapped in here since we got back, and I just want to get out in the sun and breath some fresh air before I go stir crazy.” Sighing, Blaine lowered his voice. “I wish I could play with the kids, but watching you playing with them makes me happy.”

“I know—” Kurt’s head drooped.

Trying to be upbeat, Blaine stroked Kurt’s cheek. “Besides, Trish says it's warm and thought a little picnic would make you happy.”

Kurt’s face lit up. “I want to see you happy.”

“I am.”

“Are you?”

“For the most part, yes. I wish this was over and we could be ourselves again.”

“It’s been hard, but we’re strong.”

“I guess we are.”

“We are Blaine? It's going to take time to heal.”

Leaning his head against Kurt’s, Blaine softly said, “I want to dance with you again.”

A sigh escaped Kurt and he responded in an almost pleading tone, “I miss us dancing under the sheets.”

Without warning, Blaine took Kurt’s head in his hands and soundly kissed his husband’s lips. When they parted a few seconds later, he released a huge breath and said, “Kurt, I want to get this damned thing off, so I can straddle you like our first time. Gods, I’m probably a virgin again by now.”

Honest laughter brightened the room being smiles to both of them. Wrapping each other in each other’s arms, they kissed with passion until little voices interrupted. Still holding one another, they looked to the door to see Alex and Kate watching them.

“Time's up.” Kurt sighed. “I’ll dress our little joys and then I’ll help you.”

“How?”

“You’ll see.”

Packing a feast and other things into three large bags, Trish oversaw the transit of two little children and one big kid down the street. Looking over her shoulder now and then, she smiled as one, husband helped the other slowly down the block and across the street. When the two got to the bench close to the playground, the chatter of two overzealous youngsters chasing their uncle around a small mound of grass broke the silence. Off to the left, Trish hummed as she laid everything out. Spring has sprung and the sun shone brightly within a clear sky and a soft breeze, with a slight cool edge to it, caressed the trees. Last night it rained, and except for the low-lying areas the grass had dried. With no puddles in sight, two parents hoped their kids did not discover any.

Off in the distance a group of teens kicked a soccer ball laughing and joking with each other. Three young ladies sat around a picnic table under a leafless tree looking at the cell phones without saying a word. Someone on a bike roared past while out on the street the sirens of a police car blared amongst the building. New York at his finest, but the distraction did not take away from the pleasures Blaine felt. The light in Kurt’s eyes moved him in a manner he had not felt since he found forgiveness in his heart. It surprised how short the sensation lasted before gnawing fear and doubt etched long lines on his heart.

The warmth of the sun streaming down from between light, white, clouds felt like heaven to a hurting man. Surrounded by family and seeing the man he loved smiling made the pain he endured worth it. Even though he hated them, he thanked his cousin for saying, no crutches, no picnic. The air felt cool and the strength of the sun strong. It all combined to make this day special. Yes, he . . . they . . . needed this little moment to add another log to the fires of their soul.

“Those little balls of energy will hopefully to tire Cooper out. Then we can change his diapers and put him to sleep with his favourite toy.” Trish commented as she pulled the last plastic container out of the bag. She looked up, giving Blaine a small smile.

“They’re a handful, but a loving handful.” Blaine said to his cousin as he carefully lowered himself from the bench to the blanket.

“You comfortable, my love?” Kurt winked.

Smiling up at Kurt, he whispered, “Thank you, dearest.”

Sitting cross legged on the blanket beside his husband, Kurt gently rubbed Blaine’s upper thigh just above the brace. “It's nice to be outside.”

“I know.” Blaine looked up at the sky with closed eyes soaking in the sun. The warmth soothed his nerves even if the air did not smell as fresh as Lima. “New York has a smell to it and when I look at all these buildings, sometimes I feel like a dwarf trapped in a cave.”

“You’re not that short, Blaine,” Kurt mused.

“Maybe not, but I feel a little lopsided these days.” Blaine tapped his brace as he eyes up the crutches Trish insisted, he bring.

“Is it bothering you?” Trish asked her cousin. “I watched you cross the street and it looked uncomfortable.”

“New York drivers are notoriously impatient, and Blaine rushed it,” Kurt groused and then leaned his head on Blaine’s upper thigh.

“I guess I did.” Resting a hand on his husband’s neck, Blaine gently stroked the skin. “Being outside lifts my spirits even if it took some effort. Rushing across the street turned into a bit of a trial and now my back hurts.”

A frown pulled at Kurt’s lips and he sat up and leaned into his husband. “I hope this has not set you back.”

Patting Kurt on the shoulder, Trish gave him a look. “I don’t think it did any harm. My head strong cousin only needs to take it easy, rest for a while and remember to use the crutches.”

“Yes, mother,” Blaine drew the words out.

Leaning his head against Blaine’s shoulder Kurt kissed it and then said to Trish, “Yes, he’s stubborn, but I do love his stubbornness.”

With a wink, Blaine rested his head against Kurt’s. Yes, their little journey might set Blaine back a little bit, but seeing the happiness on Kurt’s face made it worth it. Without asking, Blaine knew he hid his hurt well. Before Pam showed up, he almost threw it all out the window and now he enjoyed a bright afternoon. His heart told him, his husband needed this as much as he did and now a small wish came true. The thought tugged at his heart because he missed the outdoors of river outside Lima. The park they sat in did not match the wilds of the river, but Blaine gave thanks every day when he saw the grass and trees.

“He was always a steady little boy. I thought he might bite me when I start taking care of everything.” Trish gave Blaine a look as she covered him with a light blanket from the back of the futon. “You sure you’re alright. Blaine. You look a little pale.”

“Give me an hour and I will have some of my colour back.” Blaine deflected his cousin’s obvious intent.

“Are you sure, love?” Kurt looked up at him. “We can go—”

“No,” Blaine cut his darling partner off. “It’s worth an afternoon with those I love.”

Taking the hand resting on his head, Kurt kissed it.

“I have some painkillers with me,” Trish offered.

“It might be an idea as long as they don’t knock me out. I want to enjoy what is left of the day. I may not be able to run with Alex and Kate yet, but I like watching them run Cooper ragged.” Blaine smiled down at Kurt and passed his fingers along his hairline, “Besides, I don’t want to lose a minute with this handsome man of mine.”

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s good arm and then kissed him on the cheek.

Digging into a shoulder bag Trish pulled out a bottle of extra strength Tylenol and popped the lid. Reaching out and picked up a boxed fruit drink, she handed it to Blaine and let him open it before dropping the pills into his hand.

Throwing them into his mouth, Blaine drowned them with a gulp of grape juice and then said, “Thanks for not being a poop Trish.”

“I could if I wanted, but, it’s not worth the headache.” Trish smiled. “I could see you were stressed when I first showed up this morning, and I am sure your brother is not helping.”

“It's been a great ball of fun.” Blaine countered with a playful and obviously sarcastic smirk.

“No, it hasn’t.” Kurt mumbled with a hardness to his tone. “He has his moments of selflessness, but he had kept the twins busy which is a godsend.”

Feeling suddenly ashamed, Blaine placed a hand back on Kurt’s neck against where his fingers softly rubbed skin. He knew all too well, he walked a tightrope and he tried his best to keep strong. Some days it came easy, but others if felt so impossible. The blaming and yelling followed by days of wondering if guilt mixed with the drugs cresting a storm of uncertainty. Then the horrid news of what really happened, followed by worse guilt and self-loathing. He loved Kurt more now than before, but it did not forgive the malignancy, he felt in the pit of his heart.

“I can speak as a doctor,” Trish gave the two men watching the kids with their uncle a look. “Or I can speak as someone who loves you both.”

Two men glanced at each other and then Kurt swallowed before answering, “I think we need a friend right now.”

“It does not take a professional to see the hurt. Pam told me about the visit by the FBI in Lima and Burt mentioned the authorities in New York. Considering all the shit—” Eyes passing between both men, and Trish pursed her lips. Glancing at the children playing on the slide with their uncle. “—that has happened, you two are holding up as best you can. In my experience, I have seen people handling stuff like this in far less productive ways. Don’t get me wrong, you are going to have those days when you wished it all ended, but then you need only look into each other eyes to see the love. You’re bruised and sore, but you are young and strong. You have two adorable children to help you focus and something rare in many couples . . . you’re soul mates.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Blaine smiled at his cousin. “I knew the moment I first saw Kurt, but I did not really understand it until the moment I proposed. I had it all planned out and it when came to the words, I forgot. My heart stumbled, and then new words came to me as if out of nowhere . . . I knew that we were meant for each other. That’s why I always had the feeling as if a part of me somehow remembered him. My Kurt felt new and old all at once as if we knew each other in in some other life—|

“Or lives,” Kurt injected with a fond smile.

“Yes, as if in each of our lives, we have decided to continue our story’ Blaine’s smile shone brighter than the sun. “To find each other again and to fall in love again and again, again and always, for eternity.”

“That’s beautiful, Blaine,” Trish wiped a tear from under her eye.

“It was and I will never forget them.” Kurt beamed, honestly beamed, for the first time since returning from Lima. “I knew Blaine was going to propose and honestly, I did not know what to do or say. Then I saw the twinkle in his eyes transform into a blazing light. The words sank deep into my soul, removing any fear I felt and for a brief moment I thought I saw someone else.”

Blaine grinned, “A man before a fire dressed in something from another time.”

“With sparkling hazel eyes.” Kurt quickly kisses Blaine on the ear.

“Wow, true soul mates.” Grinning from ear to ear, Trish felt happy. “I wish I could have been there to witness it and be at your wedding.”

“I wanted to be there too, but these two never saw fit to send me an invitation.” Cooper playfully grumbled as he strode forward with a child in each arm. Kneeling at the edge of the blanket he gently put them down. “They’ve been running around all morning and I think they’re a little tired.”

Kate rubbed her eyes while Alex landed hard on his butt and sat there.

“We could go back?” Kurt suddenly suggested trying to hide a disappointed look.

“I brought other blankets,” Trish dug into the large baby bag she had hauled to the park with her. “Besides, Blaine wanted this and what he wants, he gets.”

“Yes, I did,” Blaine winked at his lover. “We can fold it up to make a little mattress and cover them with a couple of sweaters. They’ll be fine.”

Leaning forward, Kurt reached out to the twins and softly asked, “Do you want to go home?”

‘No, papa,” Kate replied with a yawn.

“I’ll lie down with them,” Blaine offered. “It’ll take a little pressure off my leg and they like napping with their daddies.”

Trish and Cooper moved things around to make room. Kurt rolled up his sweater and placed it under Blaine’s knee to elevate it slightly and then the twins crawled over to Blaine snuggling up. It took only a few minutes before the twins fell asleep curled up next to their daddy. Taking out his phone, Kurt took a quick picture and smiled at his lover.

Opening one of the plastic containers Cooper popped a small tomato in his mouth. “They are adorable, even my tiny brother.”

“Ha, ha,” Blaine rolled his eyes toward Kurt shortly before Alexander curled up beside him. Wrapping an injured arm around the child, he reached out to Katherine. The little girl scooted over and buried her head next to his chest.

Touching Kurt on the arm, Trish quietly asked, “Would you like to go for a short walk and stretch your legs.”

Shrugging, Kurt glanced at Blaine, who, with his arms full, nodded. With a smirk, he said, “Sure.”

“Fine, leave me to watch over the three dwarves.” Cooper grumbled before popping another tomato in his mouth.

“Come on, Coop, we can talk about your career.” Blaine mocked.

Making a face, Cooper rolled his eyes, “I guess I can check on my flight and my schedule for next week. A star’s day is never easy.”

Shaking their heads, two adults got up and walked toward the auditorium. An old man did not know what they spoke about at the time, but Kurt spilled the beans in a few months later. At his advanced age, his memory may not be the greatest, but he filled in the blanks as best he could. In some ways it felt as if he walked behind Kurt and Trish unseen within their shadows. Even now, with his pending death, Trish’s words moved him.

“Kurt.” Trish started when they were away from the four other family members. Her voice sounded similar, but not exactly as an old man remembered it. “How are you doing. I mean really doing.”

“I’m fine.” Old Blaine could hear the meekness in his lover’s voice.

With her head bent to one side Trish looked placid. An old man always found the look amusing and Kurt never caught on. Even though it had been years, he could hear the inflection in her voice, “You don’t need to hide from me, Kurt. Your family and I happen to love the both of you. The two of you have managed to shake up our stuffy family, and that’s a good thing. You certainly opened Ken’s eyes and you’ll be surprised to know he’s taking on LGBTQ causes in Republican Texas. Oliver wants to meet you when he gets reassigned. He’s pretty cool, but he will need to warm up to the new reality.”

“Really?” Old Blaine could only imagine Kurt’s pitch increasing with each letter. Sometimes it annoyed, but most often Blaine found it cute.

“You know what I mean, Kurt.” One of Trish’s narrowed.

Sighing, Kurt, looked down at the peeling paint on the railing. “The new reality . . . that . . . yes.”

“It’s not that bad, Kurt. We all love you.”

“Blaine’s dad doesn’t.” Kurt moaned, thinking of his own father and how much he missed him.

“Well, he’s a fat head.” Trish confided as she on the railing looking down into the auditorium. “There will always be homophobes, Kurt. Just look at Janice and how she had put her foot in it since you got married. For her your union is still unnatural, but piss on her.”

“Trish?” Kurt squinted and looked away.

Trish laughed. “Face it, she’s got the same broom up her ass the same as Daniel.”

“They’re two peas in the same pod. Maybe they should marry each other now that Pam kicks him out on his ass.” Kurt shook his head. “Oh god, did I say that?”

An old man had to smile when he imagined Trish laughing. Looking relieved he turned back to see his family and Cooper sitting on the bench munching on something.

“What’s wrong, Kurt?” Trish asked as old Blaine considered the tone his cousin would have used.

Kurt looked down and sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Have you talked to Blaine?”

“Yes . . . well . . . not exactly.”

Trish placed a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and then she pulled something out and handed it to him. “Professional me says call me if you ever need to talk. Family me says, call me if you ever need to spill.”

Gazing at the cream coloured card, Kurt’s face blanched.

“Blaine does not need to know, if it would make you comfortable. This will be between you and I.”

“I should tell him. He’s my husband after all.”

“We all have things we can’t speak to our loved one about. At some point you need to, but until you get there, I am there.”

“Has Blaine talked to you.”

“A little.”

“Why, are you doing this?”

Enveloping Kurt in her arms, Trish said, “Because I love you and you’re in love with my favourite cousin.”


	10. Christening

“You have to be joking,” Sam called from the hall, his voice carried through the crack in the door into the apartment. The words tumbled out with increased speed and intensity.

“It was an amazing play. Just look at the way he threw the ball.” Trish commented as she walked through the door tossing the spare keys in the bowl. Looking relaxed compared to the blond man’s hyper, she held herself with poise.

Reaching up to pull on the hair band holding his manbun in place, Sam objected, “Face it sister, the Seahawks got blown away.”

“That doesn’t make it a bad game?” Trish glanced over her shoulder at the pouty blond. “So, the QB dropped the ball and caused a massive turnover.”

“It lost them the game?” Sam shut the door. Water dripped onto the area rug from his rain-soaked jacket he took it off. 

“So, what’s your point?” Trish place her umbrella against the wall where the drops rolled down into a decorative bucket. “There was a little oops, but it was great.”

“Oops? You call those oops? It was just . . . like . . . stupid.” Sam shook his head as he walked in behind her. Tugging the hooded sweatshirt over his head, revealing his six pack, nonchalantly tossed it into the corner beside the closet and the shoe stand. “Blaine would have loved watching you lose.”

Giving him a look, Trish grumbled, “You can hang that up.” 

Brows pushing together, Sam thought about it for a moment and then picked it up. He went on speaking about the game as if nothing had happened. “That second quarter throw. The HB took off and the QB dropped the ball into his hands as if it had been an egg.”

“Oh, he was just lucky the egg did not break.” Trish took her shoes placing the carefully against the wall. She straightened out the ones Sam carelessly kicked off. The young man had a hole in his right sock.

“It was mastery.” Sam grinned at Trish. “The D was solid and wow, what an offense.”

Kurt suddenly poked his head around the corner and said in a low, stern voice, “Keep it down. Alex and Kate are napping.”

Sam started to say something, but Trish held her hand up warning him to keep it down. Turning to Kurt she asked, “Where’s Blaine?”

“He’s in the kitchen working on dinner.” Kurt’s face held no emotion and then he vanished again. 

An ailing old man recalled hearing the conversation from the kitchen and the mind filled in the blanks. He appreciated his cousin’s calm resolve under the worst of conditions. A few days after Cooper departed and before Sam showed up, she listened to the husbands as a couple and as individuals. With firmness she spoke of physical and emotional outcomes and then she flipped over breaking up the most serious moments with humour. The evening Sam showed up, Jesse mentioned he would be travelling to Europe for work and Rachel would be going. Trish’s innocent suggestion that the boys join in on the adventure started an enthusiastic debate. 

When Sam called in the middle of a baby crying match, Kurt took the call. Sam still grated on him, but over the years he worked on ignoring him. However, when Blaine’s Lima bro said he would be coming to New York for an extended weekend, Blaine got excited and Kurt, well, he rolled his eyes. Blaine accepted this because Kurt always rolled his eyes when Sam phoned. A husband and a friend talked sports for hours and Kurt usually found himself busy with the kids, working or reading. An old man recalled Trish’s comments adding a measure of caution when Blaine asked Kurt if he could go to the Seahawks game with Sam. 

The recollection of the look on Sam’s face when Trish challenged him over the game, reminded an old man of friends he missed. While he missed them all, Sam occupied a special place in his life. If circumstances had been different, he might have fallen for him, however, Kurt had already stolen his heart. After Sam’s death, Blaine found himself looking at old videos of them playing around between songs or on the couch watching football. In many of them Kurt scowled over his electronic magazine as the two men cheer on their teams. Grieving turned into a walk down memory lane making the both of them laugh and cry Their friends died around them and would all be gone by the time Kurt breathed for the last time. 

Blurry, old eyes slowly moved up the sleeve a sweater to a point where old Blaine stopped. Staring at Kurt’s wrinkled chin covered a day’s worth of scruff, an aged lover thought of Kurt in his youth. Hairless and unable to grow a beard, it all changed in his mid twenties, when Blaine made a comment―you’re becoming a man. Kurt swatted him, but then Blaine got the chance to marvel at the fine hair spouting on his husband’s chest. Kurt may never beat Blaine in the hair department, but it pleased just the curly head man just the same. 

Shaking his head, old Blaine suddenly realized that maybe Sam may not be that naive after all. While he could honestly see Trish having careful fun, Sam could not be delicate if his life depended on it. Curiosity forced his mind back in time bringing the conversation back into focus. 

“Should he be doing that?” Trish asked as she stepped toward the corner pulling her sweater off.

“He’s doing fine.” Kurt replies as he stepped back.

Squeezing past a husband and his cousin-in-law, Sam bounced on his feet. “I can’t wait to tell him about the game.”

“Sam, keep it down.” Trish warned.

“If you wake them up, Sam, you’re changing them.” Kurt gave Sam a hard look. At one time he had a crush on the man, but now he wished Sam would grow up. 

Hobbling down the hall, Blaine arrived in time to see his blond friend shrug. Sam’s green eyes caught Blaine before he retreated back toward the kitchen. At first Sam took a shining to Trish and then she they got into sports. Elderly Blaine remembered watching his husband’s reactions as their conversation started to get heated. Kurt threw his magazine down in a huff as he stood and then the combatants started to laugh. One husband stormed off to make some tea while the other sat there thinking, Kurt could be right when he mentioned he felt Sam and Trish did not get along. That weekend he started to understand why Kurt disliked sports as Sam and Trish needled each other over the game or some other things. Now, when the thought back, it felt as if Trish carefully manipulated events. The little tit-for-tats with Sam worked in the fractured couple’s favour bringing them closer together to keep the peace. An old man, hated the idea that his cousin could be that subtly ruthless by using Sam the way she had. 

“Hey Blaine, you missed a great game. The Seahawks got scalped and your cousin is a sore loser.” Sam’s tone rose as he bounced into the kitchen behind Blaine. Sliding along the floor he slapped his friend on the shoulder pushing the man forward. The recovering man groaned and dropped a spoon as he grabbed the edge of the counter to steady himself. Blaine’s head dropped down to one side as he winced. 

“Sam!” Kurt growled from the hall at the edge of the kitchen with concern filled his face. “Take it easy on him.”

“Uh, right,” Sam stepped back with his hands up. “Sorry bro, I forgot. He’s a fragile thing now.”

“Fragile?” Blaine objected.

Sam looked his bro up and down, “Yeah, look at you, all bundled up like a short toy.”

“I’m not that short.” Blaine shot Sam a hurt look.

Giving his friend a small hip cheek, Sam peered over Blaine’s shoulder to see what’s cooking. Grimacing with the sudden motion Blaine made a face.

“Sam, I warned you.” Kurt glowered at the hunky blond. 

“It’s alright and I bet my loser cousin could whip your ass if—” Blaine stopped when he recognized Alexander’s high pitch wail. In his mind, he counted down from five waiting for Katherine to join in. He stopped at two.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt sighed and spun around on his heels. Giving Sam a dirty look, he stepped toward the kid’s tiny room.

“Inside voice?” Trish gave Sam a mischievous look and then said to Kurt, “I’ll help.”

“What did I do?” Sam looked honestly puzzled.

“When you actually have children living with you, you’ll understand,” Blaine said to his best friend. The discomfort he suffered became a faint tingling just as the doctor told him.

“Kurt, give me Kate,” the two men heard Trish say from the hall.

Blaine let out a heavy sigh and began to stir the vegetable laden sauce for the pasta. “Sam, I’m happy you had a good time at the game, especially since you get to rub the win into my cousin. You just have to remember we have little ones.” 

“Yeah, I know, but bro it was such an exciting game. You should have come.” Sam’s face brightened as he leaned back on the counter and glanced at the fridge. “You have some beer.”

“You brought them, and have been drinking then, so you guess.” Blaine said in a mild tone as he indicated the fridge with his head. 

“You want one?” Sam asked as he reached across the work area for the handle.

Blaine grinned and kept on stirring. “I’m still on painkillers, Sam, so thank you but no thank you.”

“What a bummer.” Sam pulled a bottle out. “You never told me the whole story, but Santana said you had a fight with Kurt.”

The heart tightened, and Blaine stopped stirring. He knew his old friends never wanted to be hurtful, but sometimes he spoke without thinking. He could only imagine what Santana had said, knowing her big mouth. Filled with all sorts of colourful words, he just knew filled in all the missing details with something wild. 

“She said you said Kurt chased you out of the house.” Sam went on with his head suck in the fridge.

Fuming under the collar, Blaine tasted the sauce and decided it needed a more garlic. Reach for another glove he mashed it into the cutting board think it could be Sam’s head. “Kurt did not chase me out.”

Sam straightened up and twisted the cap off. “She made it out to be a rip-roaring fight, but I see no dents in the walls.” 

“There are not dents in the walls.” Blaine added more pressure to the task of crushing garlic. He loved Sam, but at this moment Tuesday would not come soon enough. Reminding himself to use his inside voice, he found it hard with the children crying. Suddenly grinning to himself, he turned the tables on Sam. “You have better get in there. The kids will need changing.”

“Kurt isn’t going to insist, is he?” Sam pushed the door shut with hip while holding a beer in one and three pieces of cheese in the other.

“Yes, he will,” Kurt stood in the arch giving Sam a look from around the corner. “Alex is wet and is patiently waiting for you.”

“Okay.” Sam pouted as he squished passed Blaine.

“No booze near the kids,” Kurt, who took the beer from his hand. “And don’t let Trish do all the work.”

“Yes, mother.” Sam shot back.

Once Sam vanished from view, Kurt but the bottle down and gently wrapped his arm about his husband from behind. Kissing him on the back on the neck, Kurt sighed.

The touch of those lips sent a shiver up Blaine’s back and he leaned his head back until his curls touched Kurt. In a low tone Blaine said, “Sorry.”

“For what?” Kurt softly responded as she slid his chin down so it rested on Blaine’s shoulder.

“Sam?”

“Sam’s irritating but harmless. The kids love his goofy voices.”

“It does have a softness to it.”

“Which you would have died for at one time.”

“He has great lips.”

“That he does, but yours are nicer and I have more than fresh mints in my pocket.”

Chuckling, Blaine rolled his head toward Kurt’s. “I needed him back—”

“Water under the bridge, Blaine.” Kurt kissed him again. 

Regardless of his words, Blaine sensed Kurt tense up. In high school Kurt admitted Sam made him jealous. He also told Blaine, he once had an interest in Sam and walked in on him in the shower. Now, that made Blaine jealous, mostly because Kurt never did that to him and he may have seen Sam in his all over. At Dalton opportunity constantly knocked, but the Kurt played shy. Well, not really shy, more afraid and the thought made Blaine smile to himself. 

Sighing, Blaine started to turn, and Kurt released him to allow him. Thick lips pressed against Kurt’s and Blaine felt that wonderful sense of home. The sounds coming from the other room made him laugh into his husband’s mouth. Pulling back, he smiled and said, to his husband, “Thank you for this afternoon.”

“I hope it did not hurt too much.” Kurt’s eyes revealed reservations though his fingers showed affection. Running two down Blaine’s torso, they circled around to his bubble butt. 

“It hurt in the best way, my love.”

“It's been awhile.”

“It’s only been a few weeks.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Was it too soon?”

Adorably smiling, Kurt kissed his husband, but Blaine felt the hesitation. Adding a reassuring squeeze, Blaine hoped Kurt got the message.

Kurt whispered as he shuffled closer. “I love you, so much.”

“I love you too.” Blaine’s heart rose with the words even if the unfortunate truth tugged at him. “We need to be able to speak to each other about our fears.”

“I can’t rush it, Blaine.”

“I don’t want you to. Tell me on your terms.” Blaine’s head drooped upon Kurt’s shoulder when he noticed Kurt’s brows push together. “You have an appointment Monday and Trish will listen.”

“I want you there, but the doctor suggested it would not be a good idea.” Resting his head next to Blaine’s, Kurt remained silent before tentatively asking, “There are things I can’t—”

“I get it, my darling, and I am trying to be patient and not a brooder.”

“I bet it is not easy.”

“No, but, as I’ve said this over and over, I want us to be us again.”

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt started to cry. 

Tightening his grip on his husband, Blaine leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you Kurt, with all my heart.”

His husband sobbed a little harder, causing Blaine’s heart to sink. Loving Kurt came easy, but seeing him like this pulled at him in different ways. Sometimes he could just scream, and others he wanted to hold him until the sun sets for the last time. Tonight, it felt somewhere in between. One afternoon while Kurt worked, he spilled his worried and frustrations to cousin. At first, he did not want to say anything, but she coaxed it out of him once while the twins played around them. The hurt they endured bothered him, but what he feared most revolved around his dread of losing his lover to what he had been through. Trish simply asked him is he thought about this with his heart of his head. In the end, Blaine admitted he moped. She then asked him if he still yearned for Kurt and Blaine answered a bold yes. The chore now became keeping that yearning fresh. 

Just when he thought, his heart and his head argued too much, a great howl of laughter erupted from the kid’s room. From the kitchen, the husbands heard Sam muttering followed by a door shutting. Knowing exactly what happened, Kurt burst out laughing and Blaine joined in. Breaking the gloom festering in Blaine’s mind, he smiled at his husband and wiped the tears from under his eyes. Walking with the aid of his cane in one hand and Kurt’s ringer intertwined within his right, Blaine looked into the baby room. Standing over the change mat on top of a pile of plastic containers, Trish laughed as she held Alex’s legs up while wiping him down with a sanitized napkin. Kate lay on her bed contently snuggling with a stuffed turtle while her brother fussed and screamed.

Suddenly Sam stepped out of the bathroom shirtless with a disgusted look on his face. Rubbing a towel over his torso, he groused, “That was gross.”

“Sam you have kids.” Blaine could not stop smiling. “You must have known what would happen?”

Looking down at himself, Sam grumbled, “They’re, what, going on three and you still have them in diapers.” 

“We’ve been working on it, but things got in the way.” Blaine defensively rebutted. 

“Things?” Sam gave his friend an odd look.

Pointing at his leg, Blaine forcefully said, “Things.”

The blond man tried to stay away from Alex, and it did not last long. An hour after he had a shower, he played with both kids on the living room floor building something out of blocks. In a soft voice he sang nursery rhymes while Trish and Kurt pushed the table back against the wall ending a wonderful dinner. Back in the kitchen, Blaine put the leftovers away and hummed to himself.

“There’s a baseball game on Sunday?” Sam pointed out as he steadied the pile of blocks the kids erected. It did not look much like a square with it the top slowly becoming wider. Sam tried to move them around to keep the growing tower even, but Kate slapped his hand.

Laughing, Trish commented, “Not, going to happen Sam. I hate baseball.”

“Blaine?” Sam glanced away from the twins toward the kitchen.

“No can do, Sam, my mother will not let me,” came the reply.

“Ha ha,” Trish shot back.

“Not you,” Blaine responded.

Glancing at Kurt, Trish winked as she walked over to the kitchen. Leaning against the wall arch frame she suggested, “Why don’t you leave all that for now Blaine. Sam and I will get it later.”

“What?” Sam sounded surprised. “Oh, yeah, got it, bro. Now go cuddle up with your hubby and take a load off.”

Hanging the cloth, he used to clean the counter on the faucet, Blaine gave his cousin a look. 

Smiling, Trish said, “You know Sam is right, so get over there.”

Waddling over with the help of his cane, he carefully sat with Kurt’s help. Blaine smiled when his husband lifted his leg and placed it on a pillow before snuggling behind him. Resting against Kurt’s chest with his head on his shoulder, he watched Kate picked up a block and throw it at the Sam hitting him in the cheek. Just as a father started to gather his words, Sam’s carefully dove at Kate with tickling fingers. Wiggling around giggling and screaming, when she finally found her freedom, she rolled over and roared off down the hall. Not to be outdone Alex chased after Sam and down the hall. 

“Easy daddy,” Trish smiled at Kurt squirmed under Blaine’s weight as if preparing to take flight. “I’ve been waiting those two little devils of yours doing twin speak. They’re out to get your friend.”

Brows pressing together, Kurt gave Trish a look and then he snickered. Sitting back, he dragged Blaine closer while commenting, “At times I swear they plan things like throwing something at exactly the same moment.”

“Or one nods off and the other one screams.” Blaine contently sighed. “It’s so tiring but I would never miss if for all the tea in China.”

“Boys, I hate to say it, but you're hooked.” Trish grinned from ear to ear. “You really are parents.”

Turning his head, Blaine planted a kiss on Kurt’s neck. His lips barely found skin and Blaine knew why. These days he acted like a fickle cat wanting to snuggle and then he would gently push Blaine away. As much as if bothered Blaine, he understood. 

The expression on Trish’s face caught Blaine’s attention along with the sound of Alex squawking then something loudly hit the floor. At the same time, the fathers called out, “Sam?”

“It’s nothing breakable, guys.” Sam called back over the laughing of two children.

Trish picked herself off the dining table chair and said to the husbands, “He’s good with children, even if he is a bit clumsy.”

“He a big child himself.” Blaine replied.

Kurt bobbed his head back and forth as if he decided to comment. 

Standing just in the hall, Trish waved at the two men to come take a look. Helping Blaine up, Kurt followed the hobbling man to the arch. At the end of the hall, Sam sat on the floor with a basket overturned on his head and a flower pot lying on its side with dirt all around. Kurt drew in a sharp breath as he watched Kate climbed up Sam’s right arm while Alex tossed potting soil at the man. The championship winning show choir director made funny faces and the hushed voice to match. When he noticed a gaggle of adults watched him, Sam blushed and then leaned into Kate blowing into her arm making a shrill noise. The little girl giggled and fell into Sam’s arms followed by Alex. Both children wildly smiled.

“That was a gift,” Kurt restrained his anger.

Gripping a hand with his right, Blaine said, “No harm done, and it can be cleaned up.”

Kurt huffed and then shook his head.

Placing his hand on Kurt’s shoulder, Blaine whispered, “It’s nice to see the kids having fun. We’ve been grouchy and the kids feel it. It’s good for them and us.”

Lowering his head, Kurt let out a puff of air and said nothing. His body tensed as did his fingers gathered around Blaine’s. 

The next day, Saturday, Trish went with Kurt to for his first therapist session, and Sam ran off to meet up with someone from his modeling days. This left Blaine sitting at the dining table alone watching the rain fall outside. With the kids cuddled on the futon, the adult took a moment to relax over a nice cup of coffee. Feeling tired, sour and concerned, neither he, nor, Kurt had slept well the night before. When they got to bed, his husband rolled over with his back to him without as much as a peck on the cheek. Lying there wondering what he could do, Blaine eventually drifted off. Sometime in the night he woke in pain to find Kurt coiled around him like a snake. Then Kurt got up to do his business and later the kids started to cry. Both men moaned, though Blaine’s came out as a painful growl. A light flashed under the door and he heard Sam speaking to Trish. Two weary men laid back staring at each other for a long moment and then Kurt scooted closer to cuddle. It took a while for both of them to fall asleep again and when they did, Kurt had rolled away. 

Of the seemingly constant flow of relatives stopping by to help. An old man recalled Trish’s presence in their house as the most cleansing. Over the years, Trish visited at least once a year, bringing the man she married and later her children. Her death in the devastating nine-point three Seattle earthquake of twenty thirty-seven hit the couple hard. Weeks later two men sang in a Seattle park with a dozen of other performers to raise money for a memorial. The next day, along with their parents and the twins, they visited the grave of a favoured relative. 

Old Blaine sniffled as an image of his cousin rose in his head like a ghost. Somehow, she felt like she stood over him exuding that comfortable aura of hers. He had to smile because at times it felt as if she stood close to him throughout his life. Maybe love conjured up these feelings, yet he could rationalize the odd feeling of Kurt being nearby, but Trish? Having never been someone to believe in the supernatural, Blaine found himself wondering.


	11. Dancing

The long, thin, river cruise ship lay tied up to the dock in Amsterdam, opposite rows of brightly coloured houses. A full-length, wall-to-wall window opened to a metal railing on exterior wall provided a wonderful vista. A small flat screen television hung from the ceiling in the corner by the window just in front of the heavy drapes. The sideboard and makeup desk spanned one wall from the door to a love seat with a small table between it and a rounded, low back chair. A queen-size bed rested against the wall with the bathroom behind it. On request, the staff pushed the two single beds together, giving them a little bit more room for walking. The two-toned white striped bedspread with a light brown with a blue duvet rolled back covering the foot of the bed. The space between the bed and the wall one side appeared minimal. The tiny washroom consisted of a small tub shower combination with a closet occupying the space between it and the bed. Another cabinet with shelves and a space for larger luggage occupied the space opposite the washroom door. Painted in muted beiges a large, a large bright, modern print hung over the bed and two smaller prints occupied the space on either side of the vanity mirror. 

Kurt balked at the idea of the trip at first and Blaine instantly became a bookkeeper. Neither of them considered it a good idea considering all the issues they faced, then one day it all changed. Out of the blue Blaine’s cousin Ken phoned to complain about the latest prank from Cooper. Busy with the kids, Kurt took the call and offered the phone to Blaine. Prepared to changed jobs, Kurt’s expression changed, and he walked away leaving Blaine puzzled. When Kurt returned without the phone his opinion had changed. 

The trip celebrated new beginnings, while the grandparents spoiled the three years old in Lima. The moment the plane took off, Blaine missed his little treasures. Holding the left hand of the man he loved eased the pain in his chest but did little for his leg. It took two months before Blaine could walk without crutches and once they unscrewed the metal cage from his bone, Blaine endured physiotherapy five days a week. In a month it dropped to twice a week. At the same time Kurt visited a specialist to assist him getting over the nastiness he endured. 

A couple of hours into the flight, Blaine popped to pain killers wishing they could have afforded business class like the St. James. Even though he managed to get a little sleep, his leg throbbed by the time they landed in Amsterdam. Kurt got upset during the landing, adding a new degree of challenge forcing Blaine to hold his hand with both of his until the plane came to a stop. Rachel had a bee in her bonnet when they deplaned because she had to wait. Blaine lied saying his leg hurt and they waited for everyone else to leave before hobbling down the aisle. He refused to tell her about Kurt’s little break down. 

Breezing through customs, they found a car waiting for them. Spending the bulk of the luggage on to the cruise terminal, they stayed the night at a quaint bed and breakfast in a brightly painted house overlooking a canal. The couples met for drinks and then Jesse strolled off for a date night with Rachel. With no real plans and Blaine’s leg still hurting, the boys stayed close to the B&B enjoying a quiet evening. Calling home, they talked with the kids over video before it got too late on the other side of the Atlantic. Content, they found a small café on the next block and something light to eat. Going to bed early, they cuddled up in the smaller than normal bed and quickly fell asleep. Kurt almost fell out of bed when Blaine yelped in the middle of the night. The dear man had a bad dream and thrashed about, kicking Blaine’s tender leg.

Coffee helped with the morning grogginess, giving both men a lift. Wrapped in Blaine’s arms, it took a while for Kurt to fall back to sleep. Sometime after sunrise, an excited Rachel knocking on the door announced the need to get a move on. Not rushing breakfast, the couples transferred to the ship around eleven. 

Kurt glanced at the three large pieces of luggage sitting side at the foot of the bed and then out the window. “Wow, this is nice,”

“It’s kind of small.” Blaine looked about leaning on his cane. “But then money doesn’t grow trees.”

Kurt pouted, “Mr. Accountant, again?”

Blaine pouted, and bent forward, placing his carry-on bag on the floor. “Yeah.”

“Okay, get it out of your system and then we can enjoy this trip,” Kurt gave his husband a one-eyed look. 

“Just another tally I the sheet of things we own others.” Blaine with a sigh and a shrug. His eyes travel the room spying a bottle of Champaign and a basket of fruit sitting on the table.

“Anything else?” Kurt gave his lover a sideways look. 

Blaine’s head bobbed around a bit and then he said, “You know I called Ken and it got me nowhere . . . but a brooding funk.”

“I know,” Kurt air kissed his husband. 

That got his husband a look and with a grin, Blaine went on. “You were so cute laying out cloths as if we were leaving that weekend.”

“It’s Europe, Blaine, we need to look good.”

“And the folding bags on the bottom of our suitcases.”

“Shopping.”

“Well, brooding me, was happy it all turned out.”

Dropping his shoulder bag, Kurt looked relieved. Glancing about the room, he walked through the narrow path to the window and looked out. Watching Blaine in the pane of glass he commented, “Face it, we’re blessed.”

“Perhaps.”

“Come on Blaine.”

“Okay, we’re blessed. Prime European river cruises easily sell out a year in advance. When we started to consider the idea, the ship has a couple of cabins open. When the family conspired . . . again . . . and we . . . agreed, you got so upset to find the cabins were gone.”

“It pissed me off. Then we received email from Viking Cruises confirming our cabin. Who would guess?”

“I hate to think why June is so keen on us.”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes, my handsome and honey voiced Adonis . . . you. It took her time to warm up to me.”

“No, she didn’t.” Blaine gave his partner a sad look as he limped toward his husband. 

“Face it, she liked your handsome looks and those baggy pants.” Turning, Kurt stroked Blaine’s chin with a cheeky grin. “The difference was, only I knew what was under them.”

Looking away and out the window to hide the blush caressing his neck and face, Blaine changed the subject. “Seriously, we’re not doing bad. Luckily, the foundation and June remained enthusiastic and continued to push for opening date irrespective of the setbacks we’ve faced.”

Knowing husband well, Kurt touched Blaine’s cheek and turned his head until hazel met blue. With a serious look on his face, Kurt seductively whispered, “Now does that feel all better?”

“With you next to me, yes.” Blaine gave Kurt a smoldering glance. 

“Ah, you’re so sweet.” Kurt pressed closer and kissed his darling husband. 

Emotion radiated from Blaine’s face and then he peeked into the gift basket on the table. Plucking the card, Blaine read it. “Have fun, mom, dad and mom.”

“That was nice of them.”

“We have so much to be thankful for and to repay.”

“They will never accept it.”

“I know, but it does not stop me from feeling that way.” Blaine let out a tiny sigh. :I enjoyed having your aunt Violet around, but Sara . . . I wish she would stop trying to convert me.”

“Face its Blaine, you’re a cutie and if I recall correctly, I was her age when you converted me.”

“That’s different. You have the right equipment between the legs, beautiful blue eyes, a handsome face and most importantly, my heart.”

“At least cousin Bobby didn’t show up to entertain us with his gassy expulsions.”

“I would have liked Kristen or even your great-aunt Charlotte to show up. She’s hilarious.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Kurt bounced up and down. “Soft.”

“Fun.” Blaine smirked. Placing his cane down on the sideboard arching his back as if he needed to get a kink out. He only used on rare occasions now, but all the running around the past couple of days strained him.

“Blaine?”

“Yes?”

“Come here.”

“Oh?” Blaine played innocent.

Kurt reached out and dragged Blaine over and the both fell into a ball on the bed. Lips locks and then one of them winced. 

Kurt pushed back. “You alright.”

“Pinched nerve.” Blaine complained.

Making a face, Kurt said, “They warned us about that.”

His partner shrugged. “I don’t care. We’re in Europe, so make love to me.”

With an evil smile, Kurt rolled off the bed and drew the drapes. Coming up behind him, Blaine wrapped his arms about his husband’s waist and pulled him close. Hands dug into clothing to find skin, hair and a hard tickle pickle. Lips pressed against husband’s neck. Hands searched up pulling on buttons, exposing Kurt’s muscular stomach to the European air. Years of dance and exercise provided Kurt with a nice form. Ten years ago, his shoulders and chest had less girth, but time matured both their bodies giving them firmness of well-defined muscles. Blaine grunted once or twice and then spun his lover around, so they faced each other. Wet lips found each other while fingers tugged at the fabric covering their bodies. Groping and moving about, in time they fell back onto the bed. Sliding his lips to the right, Kurt worked his tongue down Blaine’s neck and up to an ear. Allowing the feeling of the man playing with his body to push his trepidations away, one nagged at him—Blaine despised the unnaturalness of latex against love pucker. 

“We were thinking of organizing a search party.” Jesse mused as the couple stopped next to the round table surrounded by four chairs. Dressed in suits, they wanted to make a good impression on their first night on board. 

Looking away from the view from the observation lounge, Rachel grinned. “You missed the captain’s dinner.”

Laying a hand on his wife’s arm, Jesse smiled to his friends and said, “Pull up a chair and have some cheese, crackers, cold meats and fruit.”

Kurt gave Rachel a look and then pulled out a chair for Blaine. Seated next to the window overlooking the Rhine and the colourful buildings on the opposite bank, all sorts of small craft rolled with the current. Set on the top inside deck forward toward the bow, the lounge had a small dance floor at its center. The modern scheme incorporated whites, bright shades of blue and green accented with gold and silver. The bar glistened with glassware and shimmering accents, occupied the center of the back wall with two tables between it and the dance floor. Evenly spaced tables for four lined the windows with another line running along the edge of the dance floor to the wall at the far end opposite the bar. At the end of the dance floor another, shorter row of tables created a line to the front wall. With one hundred and three cabins, the vessel carried just under two hundred passengers. 

“This is going to be fun.” Kurt suddenly blurt out. Looking out the window, he watched the setting sun change the colours of the buildings. “I can’t wait to get to Vienna. The Hofburg, Belvedere Palace, outdoor cafes and the music.”

“And men in lederhosen.” Blaine injected with a sly look. 

Kurt took his husband’s hand and squeezed it. Blaine’s thumb rubbed against his skin. “As long as you dance for me wearing in a pair.”

Jesse cleared his throat. “I’m interested in the opera house. I want some ideas.” 

“Are you expecting us to dance and sing for you?” Kurt made a childish face.

“Count me out,” Rachel waved a finger at her husband followed by a winked at her schooltime friend. “Besides, this part is supposed to be a vacation.”

“Have you considered our offer?” Blaine said as the waiter carefully put two glasses of wine down on the table to the right of each young man. Around them, other passengers enjoyed the complementary wine and listened to the engaging beat of Straus played softly over the speakers.

“Gentlemen, no more shop talk. The airport was bad enough, but not on our cruise.” Rachel shook his finger at them. “We’ve got thirteen days to enjoy, do a little sightseeing and basically relax.” 

Ignoring his wife, Jesse said, “I take it you changed something?”

“I was bored, and I needed something to do. So, I took a crack at the music.” Blaine patted his husband on the leg. “Kurt’s wonderful, wacky sense of humour filled in the rest.”

“So much for no shop talk.” Rachel groused as she rolled her eyes and shook her head. Sipping her wine, she glanced out the window and then back across the large room. Every table had people sitting around them talking and relishing the view. At a glance she could see who traveled in larger groups. 

“Nothing quite like it has ever been done on Broadway before.” Kurt sipped his wine and picked up a piece of melon.

“Off Broadway,” Jesse corrected.

“On Broadway,” Blaine amended with a quaint smirk.

Jesse gawked and Rachel’s head swung back as she leaned forward.

“Yes, Broadway.” Blaine nodded with a smile. “I’m actually proud of myself. During the peaceful moments when the twins napped, I searched the theatres for availability making calls and sent emails. I hated the idea of dropping June’s name, but it worked. I passed everything on to Roger, who said the bill would not be light.” 

“Oh god?” Jesse rolled his eyes. “You’ve been busy.”

“As I said, I had lots of time on my hands.” Blaine picked up a piece of cheese. 

Leering at Jesse, Kurt purred, “Well?”

Rachel’s husband shoved a slice of cheese in his mouth and barely chewed. Swallowing, he said, “June?”

Two husbands nodded in response. 

Impishly smiling, Rachel held up her glass and toasted, “Well, then, to a successful opening night without Sue.”

The four of them chuckled, even as Blaine glanced about. “I wonder if she is somehow on this boat.”

“One stalker is—” Kurt blinked and suddenly looked away.

The quivering of lip gave Blaine a minute hint of warning. Taking Kurt’s hand, he held it to his lips and kissed it. A faint gasp from a nearby table threatened to sour the moment, but Kurt smiled a sweet, adoring smile. The twinkle in his eyes spoke of his desire to move beyond a hard year to a life filled with hope. 

Warmth flushed up Blaine’s neck and then hazel orbs shifted as he glanced over Kurt’s shoulder. In a low voice he commented, “I think we’re the youngest passengers on the ship?”

Kurt looked cautiously playfully as he asked, “Do you think any of them will get on the dance floor?” 

Blaine’s heart fluttered and he placed a second hand onto of Kurt’s. In a low voice, he said, “I would rather have you get me on the floor.”

One of Kurt’s eyebrows shot up and then he nervously looked away. His eyes rolled down and his chin followed, then he suddenly he looked up and blue found hazel. Kurt breathed in a few times as if he struggled with something important. Taking his lover’s hand and asked, “Can I have this dance?”

“I would love to dance with you, sweetheart.” Beaming up at his handsome partner, Blaine kissed his hand and stood. Hand in hand, they walked to the dance floor as the orange flair of the setting sun shone through the floor to ceiling windows.

Once on the floor, Blaine faced his husband and took the proper stance. With a flourish of a hand, he inclined his head bending at the waist. Bowing as well, Kurt took it and the two stepped into the classic waltz posture with the right and left arms extended. Leaning closer, while keeping with the style, the stepped with the music. Rachel and Jesse mirroring while a couple in their sixties strolled out onto the wooden floor. Moments later, eight couples swayed to a classical favourite.

“This reminds me of our wedding,” Blaine whispered to Kurt, who felt so warmth of Kurt’s breath on him. 

Kurt snickered. “Are we expecting lesbians?” 

“Remember our first dance, before Santana called for a general melee.”

“That was so romantic.”

“It topped off a uniquely upside-down day.”

“The look on my father’s face when we told him.”

“I think he was more shocked because we were in our underwear.”

“Sue always had quirky timing.”

“It was a lovely day.”

“Cooper was pissed with us.”

“I would say so.”

Blaine grinned and then softly commented, “He was great when he came to New York, even with that mess with the press. I have to wonder if he is actually starting to like me.”

Kurt whispered. “He just likes to pull your chain””

“Yeah, the toilet chain.” Blaine snickered, even though he felt a jolt of pain pass up his leg. “He has turned out to be a good bloke.”

Turning his husband away from an intruding couple, Kurt carefully steered his partner to the edge of the dance floor. In a bashful tone he said, “I never told you the whole wedding thing scared the crap out of me.”

Blaine blew his lover an air kiss. “I was so nervous I knelt and asked you to marry me, again.”

A big smile stretched Kurt’s lips. “That was so dreamy of you.”

“I love you, Kurt.” Blaine winced even as the words rolled off his tongue.

“Does your leg hurt?”

“A little, but I am so happy at this moment.” 

“You will have to let me go if you want to walk back to the table.” Innocently smiling, Kurt teased. “But, then, I like the way you look and the way you move.” 

“Naughty boy.” Blaine smiled and then he looked away. When his eyes came back, he confessed, “I was terrified when I walked down the aisle with Santana.”

Kurt leaned into his husband. “You never told me what you said to her?”

“It was nothing romantic,” Blaine shied away.

“Well?”

“I told her I felt like throwing up.”

“That would have been a spectacle.” Kurt tried to control his voice. “I was so horny.”

Blaine blushed deep red and allowing himself to be steered around the floor. I always amazed him how Kurt made him feel when he tried to be cute. Blaine flashed a bashful grin.

Rubbing his husband’s back with his fingers, Blaine allowed himself to be led around the dance floor. When the music shifted from the Beryozka by Evgeny Dreizen effortlessly to Faschingskinder by Carl Michael Zeihrer and the boys followed along without missing a step. For Blaine the moment lifted him beyond the pain of the past few months to a place he never wanted to forget. 

Arm out and finger grasping an extended hand, Blaine noted a gray-haired lady rushing along the edge of the dance floor. Kurt must have seen her as well because he slowed to a stop. Both men watched as she intercepted their friends. Concerned, Blaine stopped dancing altogether and stepped back from his husband without letting go of him. Jesse’s brows furrowed as he turned Rachel away from the advancing woman.

“Are you Rachel Berry?” she asked in a thick British accent. The handsome woman wore full-length dark green dress with a small gold necklace, blushed ever so slightly. The wrinkle about her eyes accented her warm smile increasing her beauty. 

Twisting his wife away from the intrusion, a shadow crossed Jesse’s brow. Rachel beamed and detached herself from her husband’s arms and said to the woman, “Yes. I’m Mrs. Rachel St. James. Berry is my stage name.”

“Oh, you’re wonderful.” The woman’s cheeks flushed as she tried to restrain her hand movements. “I can’t believe I am standing here talking to you.”

Giving his husband a subtle look, Blaine could not believe a middle-aged woman would be fawning over Rachel like a teenager. From the appearance of Kurt’s face, he probably thought the same.

Unaware of the two young men, the older woman continued, “I was at your opening of Funny Girl with the critic from the London Times.”

Blaine looked at Kurt, who pushed his lips out as if to say, quiet. The mischief sparkled in his eyes made Blaine happy. 

Rachel beamed. “Thank you. I would like you to meet my husband, Jesse.”

“Pleasure,” She offered her hand. Jesse took it. “I’m Judith Cummingham.”

Kurt suddenly looked over at the odd gathering and whispered to Blaine, “Dame Judith Cummingham?”

Startled, Blaine said, “Who?”

“Don’t you read? In the eighties she was the queen of London’s West End.” Kurt almost sounded angry as he dragged his hubby closer to the St. James’. Blaine resisted until Rachel hauled them into the scrum by grabbing Kurt’s arm. Years of success had not dulled her over exuberant ambition, and she looked like a scary sixteen all of a sudden. 

“Judith,” Rachel said as he hauled the two men with her. “I would like to introduce you to Kurt and Blaine Anderson-Hummel.”

Both men offered a hand and Blaine noted that Kurt looked confused for a moment. Stifling a grin, he could imagine Kurt wondering if he should bow, curtsy, kiss her hand or all of the above. 

“You make a lovely couple.” Judith said after she shook both their hands. “Some of the old folks on this barge probably came close to seeing the maker when you kissed his hand. It was delightful.”

The temperature rose into his cheeks as Blaine glanced at his husband with a fond, little smile. 

“I hope I did not embarrass you. I’m so sorry.” Judith said as her head moved to the right at an angle. “We wouldn’t dare do something like that in my day. My girlfriend and I married the sweetest gay couple so we could keep up appearance. It’s refreshing to see how things have changed.”

Rachel looked a bit shocked and Jesse quietly laughed to himself. Blaine and Kurt exchanged glances as a wave of relief washed through them. The grunt from the table spoke of an old story, and, now they stood talking to a legend with a tale. 

“Oh, dear, I never could keep my mouth shut,” Judith berated herself. “I hope I have not intruded.”

“No, no,” Rachel beamed. “I am honoured to have met you, Judith.”

The older woman looked happier. Nodding, she said, “Please come and join us. I’ll introduce you to my husband.”

Leaving several people on the dance floor, two young couples walked toward a table in the corner of the lounge. A balding man in his seventies sat at a corner table with one leg crossed over on his knee with one arm on the table on the other on his lap. Impeccably dressed in a bright blue blazer and a wine coloured ascot, Blaine found the sight oddly amusing. Handsome for his age, the young man admired his gray goatee. Now that a sparse patch of hair grew around Kurt’s nipples and the center of his chest, Blaine wanted him to grow a goatee. Finely chopped facial hair circling the lips turned him on. 

Judith leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. The man did not react at first and then his bright blue eyes looked up. In a barely audible voice, he said, “Ah, there you are.”

Smiling at the clearly dazed man, she said, “David, I would like for you to meet Kurt, Blaine, Jesse and this is Rachel Berry-St James.”

“Oh, my,” David looked confused for a moment and then surprised. Leaning heavily on the table screwed to the floor, he struggled to rise. Turning to Rachel he kissed the back of her hand and then offered to shake the hands of three young men. Losing his balance when he took a naturally darker toned hand, Blaine used his other to right the older man. 

“You're, a dear,” David patted Blaine on the cheek. Turning his attention back to Rachel he said, “You are a mesmerizing talent, my dear. Such range. Such presence. Such an attitude. I knew you would make it. I was afraid that idiot from the New York Times was going to crucify you when that boorish woman tripped over him when she stomped out.”

Beaming, Rachel stood straighter and Jesse smiled even as he gave his friends a ‘help’ look. 

Blaine whispered, “Sue.”

Kurt hushed him and tightly squeezed his hand.

“You’re the London Times critic?” Rachel looked startled.

“You honoured Barbara. She would have loved it.” Glancing at the beautiful starlet, a dreamy look crossed David’s face. His face changed for a moment as if he thought. “Barbara liked martinis and loved to argue with Princess Margaret.”

“You—” Rachel’s chin dropped. “—you knew Barbara Streisand.”

Kurt stammered at the same moment. “You knew . . . Princess Margaret.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not as young as I once was.” David chuckled and then carefully lowered himself into his chair with Judith’s help. Blaine stepped forward to assist, but she shook her head. 

Gushing, Rachel rattled on, “She was my idol. What was she like? It is true she—” 

“Did Princess Marga—" Kurt cut Rachel off only to have his words stall when Rachel gave one of those killer looks. 

“Now, now, let’s not get too excited,” David cautioned as he adjusted himself on the padded chair. “Barbara was Barbara. What a diva. What a pain in the ass, but then she was the most charming person knew. She would give her heart for a cause.” 

“Oh,” Rachel hands rested on his mouth.

“And to answer you, young man, yes, I knew her royal highness. I was part of her set in the sixties and I never met anyone like her. Powerful and pretty, she played hard, lived hard and did her duty. She liked having handsome, men about her and I guess homosexuals were safe. It sort of made us—” David appeared upset. 

“It’s alright, dear,” Judith stroked David’s shoulder and her hand came up and touched hers. “When we were your age, even younger, we could not kiss or dance in public. We hid. British society can be less and accepting and the four of us faced the same issues. Her royal highness gave some of us a safe place to be ourselves. Kathy and I meet David and Paul at one of her highness’ parties.”

“Sounds like Lima and Glee club,” Kurt whispered garnering him one of Rachel’s evil glares. 

“Seeing the two of you out there, brings back memories.” David went on and then then his face saddened. “Our partners are gone now.”

“Sorry,” Blaine and Kurt said together.

In a hushed tone, Rachel squeezed her husband’s hand and commented, “How sad.”

“Only Judith and I remain of our mighty foursome.” David threw his shoulders about as if he remembered something. “I regret none of it. Times were good. We meet some many people.”

“Barbara?” Rachel pressed.

Blaine shook his head because, eventually, everything found itself back to Rachel.

“The West End threw them together, but Barbs and Maggie did not really like each other.’ David glanced at Kurt and Blaine and grinned. “You two are so lucky.”

“Thank you,” Kurt beamed at his lover and kissed Blaine’s hand. Again, Rachel gave her friend a look. 

David peeked up at Jesse with an odd look on his face. “You, young fellow, you’re gay . . . no . . . of course not.”


	12. The Sound of . . . Japanese Tourists

The journey up the Rhine made for a pleasant distraction of mornings lying in Kurt’s arms, watching the lights of quiet farms and small towns drift by. Lounging on the top deck with friends, drinking or on interesting side trips to visit castles allowed two men to play out fantasies. Detached from time, old Blaine had to smile. They traced their steps years later as part of a six-month vacation to celebrate their fiftieth birthdays. By then global warming affected much and the Rhine no longer looked like the Rhine of old. Less snow in the Alps cut the depths and the rising oceans changed the tributary. New dikes and locks changed the width of the river at the where it met the English Channel. Everything changed. The world changed and two men struggled like most to find their place in the new reality.

A combination of work and pleasure, an old man recalled the stark differences between the trips. Mass migrations from the cost and the drought ridden African nations altered the landscape as vast refugee camps dotted the landscape. Large parking lot like structures dotted the riverbank where farmers grew vegetables and tended livestock in ten story tall farms. The need to feed millions of displaced people dictated politics and industry. A greatly beefed up and united European military presence testified to the fact the transition had not always been peaceful.

Speaking along the way to promote their newest production and their environmental charities, they sang at the Vienna opera house and participated in a command performance in London to drop a few names. Budapest proved to be an interesting city as did Berlin and Stockholm. Four weeks in a private retreat at the bottom of Sicily did wonders as did long stops in Spain, Greece and ice bath in northern Sweden.

An old man frowned and looked toward the window and recalled making plans for their second trip during one of New York’s last blizzards. Now palm trees grew in what remained of Central Park, but they would not last long either. Once the authorities completed the evacuation, and after removing everything of use, they planned to breach the dikes. Regardless of the protests the government prepared to use the army to remove those who refused the order. It took considerable effort from Mary and Fred to convince the old men, they had to go on their own accord.

On a rare occasion old Blaine suffered from the deep seeded guilt stemming from a lack of forgiveness of himself. HI hoped he their first trip would bury the nightmares of a perverse animal recorded the gory details which made him feel sick. The trial proved frustrating and tested their metal as individuals and as a couple. The federal attorneys presented evidence, including disturbing video and pictures, prompting a heated argument of the admissibility. Kurt took the stand to recount things lost in the fog only to have the defense rip him to pieces, making it look as if he wanted it. Blaine’s blood boiled leaving him with an empty feeling of how a woman must feel during a rape trail. In the end, it took the jury half a day to find Chandler guilty of not only the repeated sexual manipulations of Kurt, but half a dozen others. The bastard died a few years later, but the ghost haunted Blaine until the present.

As healing took over and he learned more about life, he began to see life differently. The events of those early years had him looking to varied sources. At one time he never thought he would go that way, but he started to read new age books and look at alternative belief systems. Finding it hard to understand most of it, some ideas managed to stick. Eventually he started to realize life held many secrets he had never dreamed of before. Regardless of Kurt’s accusations, religion never really came into play even though Blaine sniffed around the edges. Some aspects of Christianity helped, but he found solace in Hindu and Buddhist meditation techniques.

A haggard sigh escaped an old man’s lips and he reached up to wipe the tears away. Looking up at his dear, departed husband, he closed his eyes and tried to wish it all away. The ache in his heart, did not match his dying body, but rather the anguish of those long days in court. Lowering his head so it rested on Kurt’s motionless lap, Old Blaine allowed himself to cry . . . to really cry. With tears soaking Kurt’s pants, he sobbed for the loss of the man he loved and the guilt he had never been able to let go. Kurt had been his everything ever since the first time their eyes met, and he had let him down when it counted the most. He thought he had found forgiveness, but as his life slowly drained away . . . no.

In the present and the past, Blaine shuddered. Watery eyes stared at his charming husband, and for a second he though he saw the skin at the corner of Kurt’s blue eye twitch. The heart hitch high in the throat and old Blaine felt the power of the words pull him. Suddenly his younger self rolled over to see light streaming from the washroom. Angelic chords carried within the sound of falling water brought a groan to his lips.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DDWKuo3gXMQ - When We Were Young – Adele – Pretend Blaine is singing – please note the lyrics have been slightly altered near the end.)

_Everybody loves the things you do_   
_ From the way you talk_   
_ To the way you move_   
_ Everybody here is watching you_   
_ 'Cause you feel like home_   
_ You're like a dream come true_   
_ But if by chance you're here alone_   
_ Can I have a moment_   
_ Before I go?_   
_ 'Cause I've been by myself all night long_   
_ Hoping you're someone I used to know_

Rolling over to face the window. Blaine’s eyes opened a crack. The streetlights cast odd shadows in the night through the crack in the drapes. Lying there for a short while he endured with an adoring smile. He loved Kurt’s voice, but at this moment he needed sleep. God’s did he need sleep.

_You look like a movie_   
_ You sound like a song_   
_ My God, this reminds me_   
_ Of when we were young_

_Let me photograph you in this light_   
_ In case it is the last time_   
_ That we might be exactly like we were_   
_ Before we realized_   
_ We were sad of getting old_   
_ It made us restless_   
_ It was just like a movie_   
_ It was just like a song_

Pulling the blanket up over his head, Blaine curled up and piles some of the fabric over one ear and pressed down. The noise only got louder and in frustration, he sleepily called out, “For god’s sake, Kurt.”

_I was so scared to face my fears_   
_ Nobody told me that I'd be there_   
_ And you swear I moved overseas_   
_ That's what you said, when I left you_

_You still…_

A hand fell flat against the small of his back on the outside of the blanket and Kurt enthusiastically chimed, “Come on, rise and shine.”

Trying to ignore it the movement on the other side of the bed, Blaine enjoyed the dark and the nice big bed in a nice big room. Two weeks on the river cruise felt like heaven, with Judith and David being delightful wonderful travelling companions. They knew all the coolest, out of the way spots, and the youngsters made them feel young. David even convinced Rachel, Blaine and Kurt to sing opera, which had been one of Blaine’s least favourite subjects. In Budapest, Brits carried on to Istanbul, while two younger couples backtracked by train to Vienna.

Groggily, Blaine stared at the red radiance of the clock beside the bed. “Kurt, it’s what . . . five in the morning?”

“Time’s a wasting, lovey.” Bouncing on the bed, Kurt pushed at his husband.

“I thought I came on this trip to have a break from those early mornings?” Blaine slowly rolled over rubbing his eyes. He could have sworn he heard crying children.

Bobbing his head back and forth, Kurt’s voice had an elevated tone. “We’re in Vienna.”

“Yeah, and the city’s still asleep.” Blaine threw his head against the pillow.

Kurt flung himself on Blaine pulling the blankets back. Looking over his husband and down at him, he drove his lips into an unshaven face. “Come on, hop in the shower.”

“Sex, again?” The sleeping man lifted himself up so he leaned on one elbow. Kurt knelt on the mattress, staring at him obscured in shadow, leaving little to the imagination.

Mischievously smiling Kurt sprang up and down on the bed. “No silly. A Sound of Music tour.”

A hand fell upon Blaine’s forehead. “Kurt . . . what?”

“Sh-h-h-h-h-h,” Kurt knelt on the bed and placed a finger on Blaine’s chest. He lightly traced a line down the line of thin fur toward his belly button.

“Kurt?”

“I’ll order room service.”

“We’re in a bed and breakfast.”

“Oh, right. We’ll have to get something along the way.”

“Where?”

“To catch the bus.”

“Oh, bother,” Blaine pulled the sheets back over his head.

Flopping over his husband, Kurt pulled the blankets from Blaine’s face. Gazing at the sleepy man with a pouty face, he sadly pleaded, “You don’t love me anymore.”

Rolling his eyes, Blaine forced himself to shift under the weight of his husband. Kurt leaned against his chest, looking like a large, blue eyed puppy dog. Giving in, Blaine asked, “When does it leave?”

Wiggling his body so the bed moved, Kurt replied, “Seven. We have sixteen block taxi ride to the hotel where we can catch it.”

Blaine yawned. “What about Rachel and Jesse?”

“Rescheduled for eight thirty.” Kurt jumped off the bed and began to dig into a drawer looking at his clothes.

“Do we have enough time?”

“We’ll be back in time. Promise.”

One of Blaine’s eyebrows went up and then he yawned. Wearily dragging himself out of the nice, warm bed, he stretched, and the center of his chest popped. When he leaned forward, his back cracked leaving him feeling oddly old. Sighing, he glanced at Kurt looking so handsome in the dim light. Thwarted ambitions caused deflation forcing him to pad off toward the bathroom they thankfully had. Rachel and Jesse offered to help them afford a suite at their hotel, but the boys politely turned them down.

“Perhaps you should have asked them to join us?” Blaine yawned again and turned the water one. It sputtered and dribbled for a few seconds before it exploded with moderate force. Blaine tested the water, he groaned . . . cold.

“Nope. This is us time my dear, gorgeous husband. You and me. Now stragglers.”

“Just a bunch of tourists.”

“Now get all wet.”

“You coming?”

“Tonight, if you’re a good boy.”

“Killjoy.”

“Oh, get that cute ass in the shower or you’re cut off.”

“The water’s barely warm.”

“Poor baby.”

“You’re all heart in the morning, dearest.”

Kurt popped his head around the corner and slapped Blaine on his bare buttock. “I know, dear. Isn’t it lovely?”

Blaine grit his teeth and stepped into the lukewarm water with a low growl.

The ride to the hotel left them with twenty minutes to spare. Less than enthusiastic, Blaine cooed when the found an open café. Breathing in the divine fumes, he savoured the moment the dark, hot, nectar of the gods rolled down her throat. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on one’s perspective, the infusion of caffeine did not prevent him from drifting off on Kurt’s shoulder on the bus. During those moments where forty winks became ten, he recalled the bus speeding past a pullout full of brightly coloured buses. The parking lot beside a quaint Austrian restaurant teamed with families and kids wearing nun’s outfits and what looked like drapes.

His adorable husband acted like an excited child in a toy store, making Blaine giddy. His head went this way and that, taking in the early morning vistas as the tour bus sped down the autobahn. Both cute and annoying, Blaine could not really find fault him because The Sound of Music dominated many Friday night's for years. As a teenager, he skipped several of his father’s coveted family dinners to attend the sing along. Both of them knew every note, chord and the movements of the actors by heart. Regardless of how fatigued, he felt Blaine had to admit he found this side trip exciting.

About two and a half hours into what could be a longer day, Kurt tapped the slumbering husband’s shoulders. Startled awake, a fuzzy mind perceived streets lined with old buildings, busy sidewalks and cafes teaming with people. Stretching, the knots in his legs, he swallowed back the pain he felt.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” Kurt announced in a whisper.

“You’re dear to let me sleep,” Blaine purred before a huge yawn stretched his mouth. “Can we at least stop for coffee?”

“Yeah, I need one as well.”

“Did you get any sleep?”

“A little.”

“You’re wound up like the twins on sugar.”

Kurt, kissed Blaine and smiled. “Yeah, it’s not every day I get to play Julie.”

Sitting up straight, Blaine gazed at his husband. “You’ll make a lovely Julie. Pity you lift you nun’s outfit at home.”

“Did I?” Kurt grinned.

A disturbed look crossed Blaine’s face and then he started to laugh.

Chuckling, Kurt took Blaine’s hand and caressed it. “I couldn’t find a hat box big enough. Besides, I only saw the brochure yesterday when we got off the boat.”

“Small miracles.” Blaine winked.

Looking suddenly concerned, Kurt asked, “Are you mad with me?”

Pressing his thumb down the back of Kurt’s hand, Blaine smiled. “How could I be angry with my cute little Kurty Cat?”

Beaming, Kurt leaned his head on the shoulder of the man beside him. “You shouldn’t have insisted on double-dipping last night.”

Blinking, Blaine blew his husband an air kiss. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

Scratching Blaine’s leg like a cat would Kurt whispered, “You wicked, wicked man.”

The bus finally came to a stop in part of Salzburg made famous by the renowned movie. Peering out the window. Blaine made a face. Six other busses occupied the parking lanes set aside for at least four times more. For a second he thought this would be a bad idea, but then Kurt pulled at him as the other passengers began to file out. On the pavement a group of thirty, mostly Japanese tourists gathered. Kurt nudged his partner and indicated the three ladies standing in a group wearing the beautiful kimonos.

“I want one of those,” Kurt whispered to his husband.

Stroking his lover’s arm, Blaine replied, “One day I will buy you one.”

Grinning, Kurt looked to his left where one of the tourists unfolded an orange pole with a flag on it and shoved it into her a slot in her small backpack. Chatting with a pudgy man in a suit she turned to face a small bus which arrived. A stogey woman in a crisp suit climbed out and walked over to the entrance followed by several teenagers of various ages. A few minutes later, the tour filed through the gates following the flag. Around a corner the same officious looking woman in a knee length skirt and blazer joined them. Speaking in German, Italian and English she explained the historic significance of the gardens and then how the filmmaker used them. The flag barrier added the Japanese. Beyond the fence other tour buses pulled up and off loaded noisy families. The parking lot got very loud all of a sudden and Blaine once again thanked Kurt for his mistake of booking a priority tour.

They moved through the building and grounds until they came to gazebo in a in a green space surrounded by high fences. The group leader led them through a gate and out onto a gravel walk. Leaning into Blaine, Kurt moans, “Oh, my, a canned depiction. I wanted to sing.”

Off to one side stood a group of young actors and a stout lady, Blaine studied the cast as they prepared. A pimply blond played Rolf. Liesl looked no older and her hair dyed blond. Obviously, school students working a summer job, these two doubled for other characters as well. The rest played various rolls, including the Von Trapp children.

Worried by the despondent tone he heard in Kurt’s voice, Blaine tapped his lover on the arm. Walking across the grass toward the gazebo Blaine ran his thumb across the glass and wood structure, Blaine gave his husband a speculative look. Folding his fingers in his, Blaine lifted his voice in song.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hwK_WOXjfc0 - Sixteen Going On Seventeen from The Sound of Music)

_You wait, little girl, on an empty stage_   
_ For fate to turn the light on_   
_ Your life, little girl, is an empty page_   
_ That men will want to write on_

Kurt smiled as he picked up Liesl’s part. The three words rose in pitch as his voice echoed through the tree. Many of the tourists turned to look. The oldest male actor stamped over to the guide and blabbered something in German.

_To write on_

Making a face, the guide rushed forward, waving his hand in the air. The harsh Japanese man in a suit stepped in front of her and sternly said something. Running over the translator diplomatically repeated the words and the angry Austrian woman backed off. The dark-haired Americans continued as Kurt’s voice rose in a crescendo of harmony.

_You are sixteen going on seventeen_   
_ Baby, it's time to think_   
_ Better beware, be canny and careful_   
_ Baby, you're on the brink_

The little, smartly dressed woman pressed through the crowd holding up cell phone and others followed suit. Two enthralled Americans clasped hands and began to dance even as their voices perfectly matched each other. Waltzing into the heart of the gazebo, they forgot themselves.

_You are sixteen going on seventeen_   
_ Fellows will fall in line_   
_ Eager young lads and roues and cads_   
_ Will offer you food and wine_

Pushing off from one of the interior benches, Blaine felt a sliver of pain shot up his leg. Shifting his weight, the two of them drifted elsewhere within a world all their own. Loving voices filled his mind.

_Totally unprepared are you_   
_ To face a world of men_   
_ Timid and shy and scared are you_   
_ Of things beyond your kin_

The two swirled away from each other separating. Coming back together outside the small glass building, they joined hands. Even though the sun blasted down upon them, Blaine felt rain falling. Taking up poise of a waltz, Blaine led Kurt out onto the grass. Swirling his love around, Blaine strained as he lifted Kurt into the air.

_You need someone older and wiser_   
_ Telling you what to do_   
_ I am seventeen going on eighteen_   
_ I'll take care of you_

Cameras flashing, the growing audience made up of apposing tours pulled back giving them room.

_I am sixteen going on seventeen_   
_ I know that I'm naive_   
_ Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet_   
_ And willingly I believe_

_I am sixteen going on seventeen_   
_ Innocent as a rose_   
_ Bachelor dandies, drinkers of brandies_   
_ What do I know of those_

Another moment of discomfort, concerned Blaine, but he pressed on. If fate determined, he must give it all up, he would forever remember this moment as one of perfection.

_Totally unprepared am I_   
_ To face a world of men_   
_ Timid and shy and scared am I_   
_ Of things beyond my kin_

_I need someone older and wiser_   
_ Telling me what to do_   
_ You are seventeen going on eighteen_   
_ I'll depend on you_

Dipping Kurt when their voices trailed away, Blaine seriously kissed his husband. All around them an army of tourists cheered and clapped. The Austrian tour guide stomped forward, waving a finger at the two men, but the audience did not care. Then came the demanded pictures which made the tour guide even more unhappy.

The bus ride to the monastery and the Mirabell Gardens became a vocal affair. Blaine and Kurt belted out various pieces from the musical to the delight of the passengers. It became an odd mix of English, broken English, Japanese, German and Italian. About the midway point, the austere guide finally settled down and started to enjoy herself. When they reached the next stop, the cast waited, dressed like the Von Trapp family. Through the translator, the Japanese businessman asked the two American’s if they would continue. After coaxing the cast to play the children, they effortlessly slid into Do Ra Mi. Harmonizing Maria’s role, the boys wowed the spectators.

At the Felsenreitschule, Blaine and Kurt walked about the old theatre holding hands. It looked different with a new roof and other improvements hiding the appearance made famous by the movie look. Hordes of tourist wondered about as a crew worked on the roped off stage preparing for an evening event. Kurt grasped Blaine’s hand and led him up to the front of the seating area. There they stared for a moment before spontaneously breaking into Edelweiss. The rising of harmonics carried through the fabled auditorium rallying the crowd and bringing a halt the activities on stage. From the wings an officious individual plodded onto the stage with a deep scowl on his face. Crossing his arms, he leaned back on one leg listening as dozens of people joined in. Nodding, he smiled at the two men and walked off the stage.

Shortly after eight thirty, the wayward couple arrived at the Park Hyatt Vienna dressed in black tie and looking a little worn. Blaine walked with a limp, when the approached the table occupied by Rachel and Jesse. The maidre’d pulled the chairs out for them and place stiff, white linen napkins on their laps. Drawing the open bottle of wine from the icy chiller, he poured and then withdrew.

“My, you two look handsome tonight,” Rachel commented, giving the two men a sideways glance.

“We try,” Kurt responded as he adjusted the new brooch on his lapel.

“You’re a little tardy.” Rachel said with a naughty Cheshire cat smile. She wore a long, burgundy dress with an appropriate cut down the front. Jesse looked all the part of a gentleman in a dark gray suit.

“Fashionably late,” Kurt corrected.

“We were starting to get worried,” Jesse leaned back, giving his friends speculative look.

“Sorry we’re late,” Blaine apologized with a bashfully smiled.

Smirking, Rachel asked, “You had a good day, I take it?”

“It was a fun,” Blaine replied before sitting back with a sigh. Picking up his wine, he sniffed it before taking a small draft.

“What did you two get up to?” Rachel asked in a nonchalant manner.

Studying the English menu, Kurt replied, “We went sightseeing.”

“That must have been interesting.” Rachel’s eyes twinkled.

“Okay, what’s on your mind?” Kurt glanced at Rachel with a speculative look. “Are we having dinner with deva Rachel or nice Rachel?”

“I think you should see this?” Rachel bent down and pulled her tablet out of her purse. Already primed, she turned it toward the boys. YouTube revealed two men dancing about a gazebo holding hands and singing. The next scene had them singing in front of a stage with a stocky, middle-aged man glaring at them as they sang.

Smiling, Jesse said, “Pam thought you looked cute.”

“How did she find out?” Blaine looked very serious.

Rachel grinned as she put her tablet away and smugly replied, “I sent your parents the link.”

“Judith, sends kudos.” Jesse tried to keep a straight face.

Giving Rachel a look, Blaine asked, “How many people did you sent that to?”

“Other than Facebook, everyone on our Tweeter, Myspace and Instagram accounts. I would say, not too many.” Rachel paused, giving them a sideways look, “The internet did the rest.”

Jesse smirked. “You should see the comments from New York.”

Blaine buried his face in his hands a Kurt started to laugh. “Did you pass it on to Ken?”

“Why?” Blaine questioned as he gave his husband an odd look.


	13. More To Himself

“Oh, hi Carole,” a sad male voice spoke into the piece of technology.

“What’s she saying?” a concerned female voice echoed from the speakers of the tablet.

Shaking his head, hazel eyes shifted from the image on the screen toward the darkness of a nearby room. Not happy, he replied when Carole’s questions gave him the opportunity. “It’s good to hear your voice to and no, everything’s not alright. . . No, not really . . . Ummm . . . Yes . . . It’s almost as if no one else is here . . . No . . . I’m trying . . . This morning he was fine and sang to the kids, and now, it just seems as if he turned off . . . He had . . . Yes . . . No, he’s finally sleeping but it was bad . . . No . . . I don’t; know, yet . . . Okay . . . I’ll call, but I’m thinking she may have been right . . . Carole, no . . . You’re insisting . . . I . . . Carole I can’t do that . . . Yeah . . . Maybe, but I don’t, he would love . . . Carole? Okay, but it’s a burden for you and Burt? I think the twins will love it, but I , we miss them . . . Again, I don’t know but I need to plan for it . . . Carole, you’re the best and yes, I’ll call you back . . . Yes, yes, tell Burt and have him call. Kurt would love to talk to him, and I think it might help . . . I’m got Rachel on skype . . . Yeah, I know, and I will keep you in the loop . . . I can’t be too long . . . Yes, please and thank Carole . . . Yes, I’ll call you back. I love you, too.”

Dropping the phone on the chaise, Blaine’s head hit the cushion as he looked out at the moon glistening on the Atlantic. Running his hand through his hair, his fingers stuck in the curls. Frozen in place, he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Stretching his neck, he glanced over his shoulder and into the bedroom where Kurt lay curled up against a pillow. His heart overflowed with concern. Lying there fretting, he loathed using pills to take the edge off so his husband to sleep. His heart did summersaults and even though he knew he should not he carefully excavated himself from around his twitching husband. Standing at the end of the bed for a long moments, before drawing in a deep breath. Feeling drained and uncertain, he walked out onto the balcony. Feeling alone and he picked up his tablet lying next to the chaise and called Rachel. The anger etched in her face when she gave into the beeping of her tablet quickly shifted to concern when she recognized the pain in Blaine’s eyes.

“Blaine?” Rachel demanded with a look on her face.

Sighing, Blaine shook his head and turned his attention to his friend. Fully aware of his lack of clothing, he covered his midsection with a blanket just in cast his tablet shifted. Rubbing his forehead, he did not look happy. His eyes went down to the time in the corner of the table. “I guess I’ll call the doctor the doctor . . . I guess around three. It will be about ten New York time.”

Sounding upset, Rachel moaned, “Oh, Blaine.”

“I think Kurt should talk to her.” Glancing at his phone, Blaine frowned. “I guess I should send her a text to say we’ll be calling.”

“I could be there this afternoon.” Rachel brushed her hair from her face and glanced over her shoulder. She accepted a mug from “Jesse, who leaned into kiss her on the cheek.

“I don’t think it will be necessary, Rachel, but thanks.” Blaine grinned. “Hi Jesse, sorry I woke you.”

“No problem, Blaine.” Jesse’s face appeared on the screen and he waved. “Are you going back early?”

Shrugging, Blaine shook his head. “I need to speak to Kurt first, but I don’t want to.”

“I feel awful having insisted on this trip.” The feisty brunette looked disappointed.

“Rachel, I knew this would happen—” Blaine yawned and rolled his head feeling his neck crack. Staring at the wallpaper image of his family, Blaine sat there for a while, feeling the warm wind caressed the hair on his naked body. Hazel eyes watched Kurt’s leg kick as if he fought something in his dreams.

“What can I say, Blaine,” Rachel shrugged. “I . . . I—"

Cutting Rachel off, Jesse softly changed he subject, “Kurt was like a little boy in Vienna. He loved it.”

“I loved seeing him having so much fun, He acted like the old Kurt. Sometimes—” Blaine’s head fell into his palms and he sighed.

“What Blaine?” Rachel pressed his fingers onto the screen with a grim look on her face.

“Rachel, I feel lost because I don’t know what to do.” Blaine’s head dropped and drew in a loud, deep breath. “I’m afraid, so afraid I am going to lose him.”

“Blaine, no, no, no. Kurt loves you.” The Broadway deva’s face softened, and she touched her chest over her heart. “You know in here, the two of you have adored each another since high school. We all have difficulties in life. Jesse and I have our thorns. I’m sure Jesse would be a mess if, god forbid, I was ever—”

From behind, Jesse wrapped his arms around his wife drawing her close.

Blaine sadly stared into her and then lowered his eyes. “I’m just happy you’re both there for us.”

“He’s my best and oldest friend.” Rachel gave his friend a determined smile. “I would never abandon him, or you, for anything in the world.”

With his heart thumping against his ribs, Blaine admitted the truth, “I did.”

“Don’t you dare go there. Blaine.” Jesse’s head appeared on Rachel’s shoulder.

“You’re a great man and a wonderful husband, and don’t you forget it,” Rachel pointed a finger at Blaine. “I know it’s been hard on both of you, but you two are lucky. Not many people find their true loves.”

“Finn was yours.” Blaine regretted the words the moment they left his lips.

Sagging, Rachel reached up and placed a hand on the side of her husband’s head. In a sad tone she said, “Yes.”

Jesse’s head rolled to one side so that he leaned against his wife. He loved Rachel with all his heart, but recognized when the here all in high school, he could not compete with Finn. The topic had comes up from time to time, but Rachel honestly loved Jesse. It just proves there are many kinds of love and one is not better than the other.

Blaine smiled. “You’ve been a good friend and thank you for coming with us this far.”

“You two are special to us.” Rachel returned the gesture and then looked thoughtfully at Blaine. “Are you going to be alright?”

Wiping a tear from under his eye, Blaine replied, “I love him more every day.”

“If you need us, we are only a phone call away.” Rachel looked hopeful. “Jesse might be stuck, but I can get away.”

Glancing out into the Atlantic and back, Blaine grinned. “Thank you, Rachel, but I don’t want to ruin the fun for the two of you.”

“You won’t be,” Jesse injected.

Rachel’s smiles brightened the screen. “Jesse’s going be crawling over theatres. I guess I could just sing.”

“You’ll just sing?” Blaine questioned.

“Don’t forget to buy Kurt’s some flowers.” Rachel winked, “He’ll love it.”

Glancing back at the bed, Blaine smiled ever so slightly. “Rach, I need to be with Kurt and hopefully get some sleep.”

“Okay, but call if you need anything.” Rachel blew a kiss and the screen went black.

“We love you both, Blaine,” Jesse waved. “Yes, call.”

Cancelling skype, Blaine lay back on the chaise and put the device to one side. Sighing, he eyed the misty fingers of clouds highlighted by the bright moon. Shimmering shades of silver leading into dark grays fascinated for a moment as he blankly stared. The heart felt empty and his stomach turned sending the burning sensation of bile rising in his throat. A hand came up to his mouth and then he swallowed hard. For a second he found himself locked in place and then his head rotated so he looked into the room. Hate of what they endured mixed with the love creating a soup of nagging doubt which now faded into calm. The trip, while wonderful, held fears Blaine held close to his chest. He watched Kurt’s every expression and move for those little signs and kicked himself not noticing the latest episode.

With watery eyes, Blaine slid off the chaise and stood naked at the edge of the railing for a moment. Staring out at the moon glistening off the raves the closed his eyes, breathed in and out several times. Feeling let down, he slowly turned and quietly padded into the room. Crawling onto the bed on knee at a time, he settled next to Kurt and slowly pressed his chest into his lovers back. Laying an arm over his lover, he snuggled up and buried his head against Kurt’s neck. The man in front of him remained unmoving and then he grasped Blaine’s arm hugging it tightly to his chest. Melting into the sensation took no effort at all as warm emotion exploded in his chest. Gnawing failure drained away into a deep seeded feeling of love. Somewhere in the recessed of his mind two men leaned over the railing of a tall sailing ship looking out over the water to the distant coast. Desire touched them both as they silently communicated in that manner all loving couples did.

Startled by the reality of the short vision, Blaine blinked into Kurt’s back. In his heart he felt hazel eyes locked on blue as the crew trimmed the sails and hung lanterns. Two souls new the game neared its end and this odd feeling buoyed Blaine’s sagging mood. In his search to find a way to cope, he came to comprehend the misgivings of life from perspective of another lens. Kurt called it religion, but Blaine now began to see it as an explanation. The word written and spoken by the holy men of the far east rooted itself, even though the conscious mind continued to struggle with the concepts. Where the consecutive dreams once brought concern, he now saw it as a story of hope. While he did not fully believe in the eastern mysteries, he felt it ground him in ways he had never considered before.

His nose pressed against Kurt’s back and the mind wandered from one place to the next. Central European charms gave way to Portugal and an odd sense of tranquility. They chose the country because they could stretch their dollar, but soon found the colourfully painted buildings and charismatic people enthralling. Their hotel rested on the top of the cliff a three-quarter of an hour drive outside Lisbon, surrounded by huge trees on two sides and a street a down a one-hundred-foot-long curving driveway. Once the villa of a noble family, the size of the property did not match the view from the street where building looked small. The courtyard in the middle overlooked the Atlantic Ocean, with two wings spread out on an angle from the reception area in the middle. The guest accommodations facing the fountain in the middle of the garden courtyard giving everyone a view of the water. Stone stairs twisted down the rocky slope to a pristine white beach nestled in a small cove.

Blaine and Kurt found themselves enjoying a suite near the end of the south wing of the hotel looking northwest. To the amazement their room turned out to be the size of their apartment in New York including the large balcony. Decorated in the Spanish style, the chamber once housed a painter’s studio for the family who once owned the estate. As time rolled on, the family sold the surrounding estate to pay their debts until events forced the modern descendants to sell the villa in the late nineteen fifties. The next owner lived in it for a short while before it became a hostile. In the late seventies, a wealthy family from Barcelona bought it and upgraded it into a hotel. A decade ago, they sold the villa to a Russian billionaire who updated the hotel to its present high modern standard.

Luckily, the constant ocean breeze moderated blistering midday heat, making the coast pleasant. Spending the hotter periods down on the windswept beach or on the balcony protected by a canopy and cooled by a large fan. Lying side by side on a double width chaise reading, talking or just dozed and enjoyed each other’s company.

Walking out the front door and simply turn right or left provided new adventures. On their second night, they went out for and the loud happenings at a table in the next café attracted their attention. When a drag queen showed up, the boys thought this might prove interesting. Trailing behind the gaggle of laughing men, they ended in a quaint and surprisingly, mostly male occupied dance club. Though they had no desire to flirt with anyone but themselves, the handsomely swarthy Aleixo took a shining to Kurt. He danced about the pair toying and shimmying up and down Kurt. The way he pressed his pelvis against Kurt when the crowd forced them closer, made his intent blatantly obvious. A little put out, Blaine countered by making a very pointed statement—he took Kurt, dipped him and stuck his tongue down his throat. Unperturbed, Aleixo shamelessly pursued Kurt and even tried to get someone to distract Blaine. The challenge set and accepted, the two lovers played off one another until Portuguese stud zoomed in on someone with a maple leaf on his shirt.

Sometime during the melee, one if the local drag queens took a fancy to lovesick couple. Chatting up a storm, the middle-aged man, neither offended nor tried to hump the younger men. She/he genuinely wanted to have fun, thus, Blaine and Kurt found themselves hanging around with jovial fellow and his friends. Getting back to their hotel about five in the morning, the next morning coffee did little to help the banging in their heads.

Candy Sombrero, her English name, invited the boys to his house. Situated high up on a hill overlooking the coast, the interior looked like something Liberace would have lived in. Decorated in a bright and vibrant in the Spanish style, posters from old movies from the forties, fifties and sixties lined one hallway. The afternoon bloomed into a party filled with song, wine, homemade food and scantily clad men. Near midnight they boys found themselves back at the club where they pranced around the dance floor and sang with their drag queen friend. Singing their hearts out, even though the languages did not mix, the crowd loved it. Candy dropped the boys off at their hotel around an hour before sunrise.

It took some effort to drag themselves out of bed and a few coffees helped. Staggering down to the beach to nurse their hangovers, the breeze off the Atlantic cooled the hot air. Lying there, Blaine watched the man, he adored sleeping next on an oversized beach towel. The shifting shadow of a large umbrella added additional protection to the gobs of sunscreen rubbed into the handsome man’s lean body. Normally Blaine’s Eurasian heritage provided the base for a golden tan, but here he used sunscreen as well.

Blaine brushed the flopping curl from his forehead and smiled. The latest copy of Vogue lay next to him upside down, marking the place he left off. With his head propped up on a small pillow, the sweet man looked at peace as he slept. With a happy glint, hazel eyes scanned down the body spread out beside him. Half of Blaine’s face rose in a wicked smile when he paused at a nipple noticing the small love bruise. The memory of their last night in Vienna made him blush as his eyes followed the ridges of a sculptured stomach to the belly button. A few inches later, he came to the skimpy, bright blue European cut swimsuit which left little to the imagination. He knew this part of the body in the most intimate way and the sight of the mounded fabric made him tingle in a similar place.

Each subtle jerk of the fleshy monster breath tight cloth spoke of the competition between the constantly altering temperature, pleasing an observant and naughty husband. The sight of the lovely appendage hanging free always enthralled, but a little fabric left something to the imagination. Kurt in jeans or slacks or shorts or a towel, it did not matter to Blaine. If the fine fabric lived, he could image the moan of ecstasy every time the beast within moved. At present the that particular animal lay snugly in his cozy bed and at an angle which titillated. The silky cloth stretched enough to show the edge of the head and a vein or two running up the shaft.

With a smirk, he recalled Kurt’s face when he Blaine modeled the skimpy garment enveloping his private areas. The dear man just stood there staring with wide eyes and the most delicious little look on his face. Suddenly Kurt blushed deep red as he looked the other people in the tiny boutique. He tried to protect Blaine’s modesty, then a man stepped out of a nearby booth to study himself in a mirror wearing something even smaller. Even though no one seemed to care, Kurt needed convincing to model for Blaine. When he did, he held the curtain open so only his husband could see. Surprisingly, Kurt suggested they buy several pairs.

Blaine’s problem now became the fact that his manly joy pushed down into the pouch giving it increased girth. Never in his life would he consider wearing something like on a New York beach or on the river in Lima, but here, most people did not get upset. On their first journey to the beach, they wore what they would normally wear. Seeing two naked women and a nude man walking up the stairs as they went down, made them think. Blaine wanted to sunbathe in his birthday suit, but Kurt quickly ended that idea. Okay, he did hike a little bit more without letting it all fall out.

Running a finger lightly along the ridge of his lover’s swimsuit came mind. The tongue might be fun if he remembered to withdraw fast enough. An impish grin pulled at Blaine’s lips as he thought of the fun, he could do with ice right now. Instead, he leaned in close and blew a puff of air against Kurt’s ear and it twitched. Doing it again, his husband swatted at the intrusion.

Blinking, Kurt yawned and asked, “Is it time to go back up.”

“Unless you want to become a lobster, dearest.” Blaine lightly kissed his husband fully aware of other guests and the locals spread out across the open expanse of sand.

“Are we going out tonight?”

“You have another date with Aleixo?”

“He’s cute.”

“And?”

“He can dance.”

“I can’t?”

“You dance in different ways.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Perhaps.”

Kurt smiled and then planted a kiss squarely on his husband. “I’m more than happy with the model I have. So, like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

Blaine grinned as he poked Kurt in the stomach. “You loved that lap dance.”

“But no one fills my lap like you do.” Kurt returned a naughty wink.

Blaine traced a line across the hem of his partner’s small piece of clothing. “I certainly have no complaints about your accoutrements.”

Flushing bright red, Kurt ducked his head. “I don’t know about you, but these skimpy little things won’t contain us much longer.”

Glancing at Kurt’s expanding bulge and the pink spreading from his neck to his chest, Blaine commented, “Probably not.”

“You want to?”

“I thought you would never ask.”

Stuffing a large bag with towels, pillows, water and magazines, the boys and ran up the one hundred-odd steps to their hotel. The stairs ended beside an infinity pool jutting out over the cliff to the beach below. People lounging around the pool enjoyed a spectacular view of the dense forest hugging one side of the cove and the bright gardens of the houses on the other. Several round, metal tables separated by thick foliage occupied the space between the fountain and the large double doors leading into the lobby.

Two and a half hours after retreating up the slope, the boys lay naked in the shade of the balcony encompassed in the afterglow. Cuddled up on the thick cushions of a large chaise, Blaine read the latest Broadway news. Next to him Kurt pushed his head against Blaine’s chest and played with the light hair and within few minutes later he drifted off to sleep. Reading a bit longer, Blaine eventually put his tablet down. Arms wrapped about his husband, he listened to his purring snores and smiled. Part of the marriage pact meant you endured the annoying things about your partner. The lovely man often pushed Blaine to get him roll over stopping the chainsaw on the other side of the bed. The benefit of snuggling went a long way to soothing any ruffled feathers.

The man curled up asleep next to him kicked out with his foot like a dog would if it dreamed. Thinking little of it, Blaine lightly stroked Kurt’s hair before moving to his chest. Out of the blue Kurt yelped and he drew himself up into a ball. Shocked, Blaine recoiled as if Kurt represented something repugnant. Ashamed of his reaction he pushed and arm under Kurt’s body and drew the quaking man tightly against his body. Spooning his lover, he rested his nose against the back of his husband’s neck and listened to Kurt’s sobs. The occasional and sudden motion made cuddling difficult, but Blaine refused to let go. Feeling utterly helpless, tears welled up in his eyes as he kissed his husband’s back just to let him know someone loved him. Oh, Blaine loved him, but this breakdown, like others, burrowed tiny holes into Blaine’s soul.

Suddenly Blaine’s eyes went wide as if a stark realization struck him—what if Kurt thought Chandler had his way with him this afternoon? Terror tore into an already pounding heart—oh . . . no . . . gods, no. He would never hurt Kurt, but then he had. Jesus, how stupid could he be, and it had all been his fault. Only if he had listened instead of running. Does he run again? No! Never! With water blurring his sight, he knew of only one thing he could do—endure.

Rolling his head so that his mouth rested near Kurt's ear, a whispering melody passed Blaine’s lips

( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3oE-yH3wONQ – Hold On - Michael Buble)

_Didn't they always say we were the lucky ones?_   
_ I guess that we were once_   
_ Babe, we were once_

_But luck will leave you 'cause_   
_ It is a faithless friend_   
_ And in the end when life has got you down_   
_ You've got someone here that you can wrap your arms around_

_So hold on to me tight_   
_ Hold on to me tonight_   
_ We are stronger here together_   
_ Than we could ever be alone_   
_ So hold on to me_   
_ Don't you ever let me go_

_There's a thousand ways for things to fall apart_   
_ But it's no one's fault_   
_ No it's not my fault_

_Maybe all the plans we made might not work out_   
_ But I have no doubt even though it's hard to see_   
_ I've got faith in us and I believe in you and me_

_So hold on to me tight_   
_ Hold on, I promise it'll be alright_   
_ 'Cause it's you and me together_   
_ And baby all we've got is time_   
_ So hold on to me, hold on to me tonight_

_There's so many dreams that we have given up_   
_ Take a look at all we've got_   
_ And with this kind of love_   
_ What we've got here is enough_

_So hold on to me tight_   
_ Hold on, I promise it'll be alright_   
_ 'Cause we are stronger here together_   
_ Then we could ever be alone_   
_ Just hold on to me_   
_ Don't you ever let me go_   
_ Hold on to me, it's gonna be alright_   
_ Hold on to me tonight_   
_ They always say we were the lucky ones_

The wind passing up his butt crack startled Blaine bringing him back to reality. Pulling his head back ever so silently, Kurt’s vice grip hold restrained him. The melody in his head touched his soul as if someone reached from the unknown to tap his soul. Reverberating through time an old man swallowed hard. With his heart pounding in his chest, he realized the words he sang to his distraught husband all those years ago meant more to himself than he realized.


	14. It’s A Deal

Regardless of the pleasures Europe offered, Blaine felt relieved with he saw Lady Liberty poking through the clouds hovering among the New York high rises. The jet jolted and Kurt squeezed right hand in an attempt to calm his nerves. Returning the gesture. Blaine knew his dear husband feared he ruined their vacation. In return, Blaine ensured he felt loved. It took all-day for Kurt to come down and by the time he could speak, exhaustion took them. Hours later, Kurt stirred first with a long and stiff stretch. The motions woke Blaine, who found his arm cramped from his beloved lying on it. With the rays of the rising sun glistening on the ocean, they kissed and cried some more. Normally, Kurt remembered little, but this time he felt awful about kicked Blaine. Tender kissing followed by a deep conversation. Drifted off to sleep again, they woke when the heat of the high afternoon became uncomfortable. 

Their last week in Europe passed too fast for Blaine’s taste. Ranging out from their hotel they found a wonderful, ma and pop winery, which offered magnificent homemade meals and an outstanding view. One of Candy’s friends offered to take them to a bullfight, which neither man felt enticed with. Instead, they ended up at a premiere league soccer game and to Blaine’s surprise Kurt loved it. One day Candy took them out sailing on a friend’s schooner introducing them to snorkeling and the wilds of an angry Atlantic. Waves beat over the bow wind caught the sails propelling the wooden ship from the secluded bay. Standing at the bow pretending to be on the Titanic with one in front of the other with their arms spread wide. Secured by harnesses and ropes, they laughed and sang as the cold spray washed up over them cooling their sun dredged bodies.

Making sure they had time to themselves, Blaine annoyed Kurt with his watchfulness. The man stormed out of the hotel returning half an hour later looking terribly unhappy. Sitting on the balcony, Kurt took Blaine’s hands and apologized for being an ass. Leading to another heartfelt conversation, Kurt avoided some topics by altering the path of the discussion. To Blaine’s surprise, he wanted to go see another soccer game. 

Glancing out the window, Blaine smiled at the thought of Kurt liking soccer. Maybe he might finally be able to win a bet with Burt. Yes, Kurt went to the first game to appease his husband armed with magazines. Within ten minutes he forgot the glossy booklets and suddenly cheered for the away team. Shocking his husband, their host warned him not display his support the opposition. Portuguese soccer fans may not be British soccer fans, but their passion ran high. 

Blaine heard sharply inhale when the plane suddenly dipped. Placing his left hand on Kurt’s clammy hand pressed into his right, Blaine glanced at the man next to him. The man next to him leaned toward him with his eyes shut and his head bowed. Smooth, perfect skin looked dull and pale. Rubbing his thumb over the back of love’s hand, the curly headed man warmly smiled.

“I’m good,” Kurt quietly replied.

“Sure?” Blaine sounded a bit uncertain. The woman in the aisle seat gave him a sideways look, followed by a sweet smile.

Kurt looked to his left and leaned in so his nose a couple of inches from Blaine’s. With an enduring little smile, he asked, “What did I do to deserve you.”

“You spied on the competition.”

“Have I thanked you today being there for me?"

“With every look you give me. Yes, it’s been difficult, but I love you, Kurt Anderson-Hummel.”

“Have I been that bad?”

“Honestly, at times . . . yes. However, before you say anything, I married you for better or worse. This is the worse and I know better is just around the corner. Now, we’re about to land and I know how much this unsettles you. Hold my hand and know I will not let go.”

“I love you too, Blaine Anderson-Hummel.” Kurt’s face suddenly changed when the aircraft dropped again. 

Lowering down into the into thick, rain laden clouds, gusts of wind buffeted the plane as it neared the ground. Kurt held his breath and squeezed his husband’s hand as the aircraft hit the tarmac one wheel at a time. When the engines reversed, Blaine kissed Kurt’s balled up fingers and then pried his blue hand free. Wiggling the digits, Blaine admitted landing in a Seattle storm upset his stomach, but this left him green. 

It felt like hours before the plane stopped at the gate. Sitting in the forward third of economy cabin, they decided to wait until most of the three hundred passages to get off. Customs proved to be a little bit of an ordeal because the boys reported having overspent things the brought home, including a new piece of luggage. After paying the duties, they gathered their belongings and made their way out of the security area into a long corridor. Emptying into a large hall teeming with bubbling humanity, people from over a dozen international flights mingled with those waiting to greet them. Like radar, Kurt spotted a familiar bald head and almost tripped over his luggage as he raced forward. Throwing himself into his father’s arms, Kurt buried his head into the middle-aged man’s shoulder. Smiling, Blaine, loved seeing father and son together, even if it made him a little sad. He would never be able to compete, but Burt would never match the special greetings the men have for each other. With a single raised eyebrow, Blaine had to wonder if Kurt would react the same when he became a pleasantly filled out older man. 

Giggling at his inner voice, Blaine jumped when a hand fell on his shoulder. Turning, he threw his hands around his mother with a joyous little yelp. As a child, he always found protection in her touch, and now, like then, the tension drained away with a shiver.

“You alright, dearest?” Pam’s tone gave away her concern.

Knowing he missed her hugs, she squeezed tighter and confided, “Better now, mom.”

“And Kurt?” Pam asked as she rubbed her son’s back.

“He’s more or less his usual self,” Blaine mumbled as he pulled away, giving his mother a look. “Better? What are you doing here?”

“Meeting you, my dear,” Pam stroked her son’s arms, she drew him into a hug again. 

Not one hundred percent convinced, Blaine peered over his shoulder to see Kurt jabbered at his father who held up one hand, trying to get his son to slow down. His head drooped for a second and then he looked up at his mother. “Having Burt here is the best.”

“Burt wouldn’t have missed this for all the tea in China.” Drawing her son into another hug, Pam stroked his son’s back. “I know you, my little miracle?”

Unable to argue, Blaine rested his head on her arm. “It was not as bad as some of the others, but it doesn’t mean I liked it. I worry about him.”

“I know.” Pam spoke with a quiet, calm voice.

Knowing what his mother tried to do, Blaine said, “Before we left, we made an appointment with the doctor for this coming Wednesday.”

“Dear, you’re not being brave for my sake?” Pam let her son go, giving her son a stern look.

Before Blaine could even process his mother’s words, a firm hand fell on his shoulder. Spinning around to face a congressman wearing a flannel shirt and baggy jeans, Blaine found himself enveloped in familiar arms. Accepting the tenderness Burt offered, in the corner of this eye, Blaine watched his mother pull Kurt into an embrace and a kiss. 

Slapping Blaine on the back, Burt reached for one of the large shoulder bags and hefted it up. With surprised look on his face, he commented, “What did you do, buy Europe out?

Chuckling, Kurt replied with a bright smile, “Just Dior.”

Laughing. Burt reached up to ruffle his son’s hair and abruptly pulled back when he noticed the look his son gave him. Grinning, he said, “Come, on, lets get the two of you home. There are two little gems there who are dying to see you.”

Refusing to let his excited son to speak of their trip, Burt spoke about the garage and the nonsense going on in Washington. Pam hushed her son when he tried to speak of bringing up Cooper’s latest television offer. Conversations about Blaine’s brother had a limited shelf life, thus Burt shifted the conversation into his favourite topic—his grandchildren. Sitting side by side in the backseat of Burt’s SUV, Blaine and Kurt exchanged emotional glances as funny little tales unfolded. Kurt whimpered when the Pam told a story about the kids riding a pony together with their grandparents’ help. Passing her phone back to the boys so they could see the video, Kurt moaned he had missed another first. Burt commented that the firsts never stop coming, and Kurt only need think back to his coming out to know that. Tedious best described the drive though, Blaine understood someone waited at home with the three young children.

The moment the door opened the screams of excited children echoed in the corridor. Dropping what he carried, Kurt ran into the apartment where he fell to his knees to accept the cherished hugs and kisses from Katherine and Alexander. Coming up behind him, Blaine noticed the way his husband held the children and how his back moved in little jerks. Placing a hand on Kurt’s back, Blaine knelt beside his husband and kissed in on the side of the head just as Alexander threw himself at his other father. 

With an arm draped over the man he loved Blaine reveled in the unconditional love the twins offered. The children switched from daddy to papa until they got their fill. Then, with a typical jubilant jump, one of them darted away to find something new to occupy them. Never far behind, the other took off at a jog into the living room where toys lay strewn across the floor. Laughing, Blaine nipped at his husband's ear, making his shoulder come up in that adorable way. 

Rising to his feet, Blaine offered Kurt his hand and drew him into a bear hug. In a gentler tone, he said, “It’s good to me home.”

Letting out a little sigh, Kurt kissed Blaine on the neck and commented, “I missed them.”

“Me too,” Blaine cooed. Stroking Kurt’s shoulder, he felt the tension in his husband’s muscles. 

“Do I get a hug,” Carole interrupted. Leaning against the wall holding Rachel’s child protectively in her arms. Passing the fussing child off to Pam, she pushed off and spread her arms wide. With two quick steps Kurt effortlessly fell into her burying his head into her shoulder. 

A feeling of inadequacy bubbled in Blaine’s chest at the sight of his husband curling himself into Carole’s arms created. Why would the sight of a loving parent rubbing his husband’s back bother him? Could it be because his anger caused all this? No! Never! Well, maybe? Did guilt force him to support his partner. No, he did his best and should feel proud. Proud, yes, but why did he continue doubt?

The scuffing of luggage on the tiles brought Blaine out of his momentary funk. Before he could turn, he found himself enveloped in Kurt’s arms. With wet eyes, Kurt gazed at Blaine and then he leaned into the hug. Resting his head on Blaine’s shoulder, Kurt snuffled and squeezed tight. A little shocked at first, Blaine recovered and spread his finger across Kurt’s back to give him support.

“You’re my best blessing,” Kurt whispered to his partner.

With a lump settling deep in his throat, Blaine let his head fall next Kurt’s. Breathing in, he soaked in all his husband could offer.

Clearing his throat, Burt patted both boys on the shoulder. “Okay, let's get this luggage packed away and we can eat.”

Rolling his eyes, Kurt stared over his husband’s shoulder with one eyebrow raised, “Trust you to think of your stomach during a perfectly sappy moment.”

To make the point, Burt’s stomach loudly rumbled, and everyone laughed. Shaking her head, Carole grinned at the congressman and said, “I bet the boys are tired and would love a family evening at home. We’ll order in.”

It took little effort to haul the three heavy pieces of luggage and two carry on to the bedroom. On instinct, Blaine automatically started sorting the contents into laundry piles. He stopped when Pam walked in and hauled him away after giving her son rueful look. Snickering at the comment his mother made, Blaine stepped into the threshold of the living room to find the twins playing with their grandfather and Barbara. Carole sat on the couch with a pile of menus spread out on the coffee table and a phone in her hands. He loved the perfection of his family all around him.

Joining Kurt in the kitchen, Blaine kissed his neck and then dug into the fridge for a bottle of wine. Excited, the two men combined their memories replaying their adventures, minus a certain occurrence in Portugal. Regardless of the hopeful look on Carole’s face, Burt scoffed when they recommended the cruise to their parents. Pam got excited about Lisbon and expressed her desire to travel before she got too old to care. Two grandmothers started to plot as they peppered the boys with questions.

Burt thought he might get a free ride, until Carole got him off his ass to pay the young delivery man. Returning with three full bags of hot and pleasantly smelling food, the twins longingly looked up even though they had just finished their dinners. With Barbara napping and the twins whining for treats, the adults sat around enjoying their meal. The taste of good old Americanized Chinese cooking made Blaine smile. The cuisine in Europe might have been over-the-top, but this tasted like home. 

When the storytelling began to fade and most of the food had mysteriously vanished, Kurt trotted into the bedroom and came back with a cloth bag with an Austrian flag on it. The twins squealed when he handed a series of little treasures wrapped in tissue. Waking Barbara with their enthusiasm, Carole hauled herself off the floor and vanished into the hall. Returning with Barbara in one arm, she pressed to her lips.

Rubbing his extended belly, Burt stretched out on the floor playing with his grandchildren. Wiggling a little German made doll of someone in traditional dress in the air to get Barbara’s attention, he looked at his son and bluntly asked, “Where do you two go from here?”

Caught off guard, Kurt stared at his dad for a moment and then wiped his mouth. Looking toward his husband, Blaine noticed the desperation in Kurt’s eyes. Not wanting to dig up anything inappropriate, Blaine replied, “Well, we have children to raise.”

“An excellent point.” Burt gave Blaine a fatherly look.

“And we have a musical to put back together,” Kurt interceded with a scrunched brow. “Our backers are still with us, so it’s just a matter of setting up a new venue and rehearsals.”

“Yup, two big-ticket items,” Burt stated with his politician’s poker face on. “Do you think you’re ready? Kurt?”

Not expecting such a straightforward question, a son swallowed hard and his lip twitched. Closing his eyes for a moment, he sighed and reached out to take Blaine’s hand. In a quiet voice, he finally responded, “The one-million-dollar question, dad. I honestly don’t know until I try.”

“A reasonable answer,” Burt smiled at his son breaking the tension. “Fine enough, but remember producing and starring in a play is huge.”

“Yes, it is, but I need something to keep me busy.” Kurt rubbed his eyes and then looked to Blaine who nodded. “I know I am nowhere near one hundred percent, but I have a supportive husband, two wonderful children and the greatest parents in the world, including you Pam.”

Pam blushed and smiled at the compliment. 

Kurt spoke over Pam’s reaction as he tilted his head toward his husband. “I need to find myself again and I’m asking for all your help. Especially you, Blaine. I know it’s been hard, but I would not have survived this if it had not been for you.”

Beaming, Blaine blew his love a kiss.

“Right.” Burt’s cheeks had a slight pink hue to them as he tried to hide his expression. “When you get the play off the ground, hold some—.”

Grinning, Kurt excitedly interrupted his dad, “You got it. Prime tickets right up-front with Pam, Cooper and a hopeful, plus one.”

“Thanks, kiddo, but you didn’t let me finish.” Burt appeared to be a bit crossed. “I was going to add, what really needs doing is for the two of you found a new home.”

“Errr . . . yes,” Blaine stumbled on the simple words almost dropping the wine he held. Of course, it took his father-in-law to bring up a topic the couple had been dancing around since getting reconciling. The hair on the back of his neck tingled. 

Glancing at Blaine, Burt continued the thought, “With the twins growing like weeds you’ll need a bigger place.”

“And this place feels wrong.” Pam injected while giving him as sideways gaze.

Two men looked at teach Blaine’s mother sitting cross-legged under the window, helping Burt entertain the twins. Picking up a block, she helped build a little fort for Kate’s new stuffed giraffe to live in. Blaine’s jaw hung ajar and then he nervously looked to Kurt.

“You need to buy something,” Pam added with a sweet smile as she reached out to steady the blocks when her granddaughter pushed a bit too hard.

“We can’t afford to buy!” Kurt’s voice squeaked as he loudly objected. He covered his mouth when the twins turned toward him with big eyes. Sliding to the edge of the futon, he stared at Pam as if she had gone mad. Slowly his eyes moved to his dad who stared back at an angle with one eyebrow raised.

“It’s okay, my little darlings,” Pam purred as she steered the twins back to the games. 

“You can if we help you,” Carole stated rocking Barbara in her arms. 

“Mom?” Kurt glanced about the room at the older adults.

“Being a congressman has its perks, my boy, and one of them is a large salary I don’t know how to spend.” Strength radiated from Burt’s voice as giving the hint the debate might be very short.

With his nose curled up, Kurt glared at his father. “Dad?”

“Look, Kurt, the shop is successful, and I have more money than god,” Burt gave his one a serious look. “I have—"

Stunned, Kurt’s voice rose to a high pitch as his eyes shifted from his father to his husband. “But—”

Carole’s audibly loud sigh caught everyone’s attention. Putting Barbara down, the child crawled over to the twins. Getting up off the floor, she walked over to Kurt and sat beside him on the couch. Wrapping an arm about her stepson, she looked into his eyes and said, “I gave up hope I would ever have grandchildren when . . . Well. . . I will always be thankful to Rachel for her kindness. You have to understand, Burt and I have no one else to leave things to other than you and your beautiful family.”

“Carole?” Kurt swallowed hard and looked to his father followed by a shocked Blaine.

In an uncommon emotional manner, Burt added, “What she is trying to say, is, you can consider this an early inheritance.”

Falling back against the cushions, Kurt looked paler than normal. Deeply moved by the stunning and impossible offer, he gazed at his husband who looked like he might hyperventilate. Wiping his eyes, he blinked and said in a low, hushed voice, “Do you know how expensive New York can be?”

“As a matter of a fact I do.” Burt puffed himself up giving his son a self-assured look. “While you were away, I did a little investigation and you will be surprised what is affordable.”

“Yeah, in the South Bronx or Tremont.” Kurt rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Picking Barbara up and placing the her on her lap, Pam said, “No, we’re thinking Manhattan.”

“You’re joking!” Blaine gapped at the older adults in the room, noting the look on Katherine’s face. 

“No, we’re not.” Pam lowered her head, so she looked over glasses at her son. “I have to sell the house anyhow—”

“What?” Blaine cut his mom off and sat straight up with a look of disbelief in his eyes. 

Watching Barbara make a mess of what the twins tried to build, Pam measured the volume of her voice. “Blaine, I’m getting divorced and I—” 

“Where are you going to live?” Blaine cut his mother off and then covering his mouth. Shaking his head, Blaine raked the fingers of both hands through his thick curls. 

“It’s okay, dear.” Pam crawled over to his son and Kneeling beside him, she wrapped her arms about Blaine. “When you were away, things got more complicated with Daniel. He’s still chasing the inheritance and is claiming I broke the law when I gave it to you and Cooper. My lawyers recommend I sell the home and buy him out.”

“But?” Blaine objected with a downcast look.

“Blaine, I don’t want to live there anymore.” Pam gave her son serious look. “My needs are smaller now and I’ll keep enough for myself. The rest I’ll split with you and Cooper. Daniel won’t be happy, but I really don’t care what he thinks theses days. I already make more than he does, so I will probably have to pay him alimony anyhow. He can chew on that.”

Uncertainty flashed across Blaine’s face and rested his head on his mother’s shoulder. In a low voice he moaned, “Mom, you can’t give up the house?”

“Yes, I can, and I will. Like your apartment it is filled with a mixture of fond and bad memories. My lovely boys grew up there, but then came the fighting and the hate.” Pam rubbed her son’s back. “I want a clean start away from the place where Daniel struck my boy for being who he is.”

Raw emotion splashed across Blaine’s face and he held on to his mother. Once more he sat at the dinner table feeling the sting of his father’s hand on his red cheek. It stung in ways his parents could not imagine and the memory dredging up the self-doubt all over again. Irrespective of his mother’s touch, a teenage Blaine spiraled into a deep pit, leaving him numb for days. He did not know at that time, but Cooper gave their father supreme crap. Then, during a paparazzi frenzy in New York, his older brother told his sibling how his anger forced him to take a serious look at their up and down relationship. 

Getting up from the couch, Kurt crossed over to his husband and enveloped him from the side. Sandwiched between his dearest loved ones, Blaine swallowed as a hand reached back to encompass Kurt’s leg pulling him closer. Feeling vulnerable and ashamed, the curly headed man disliked showing weakness in front of his husband when he needed to be strong. 

“Blaine, your mom is more than welcome to stay with us until everything settles.” Burt sniffled and pressed a finger under his eye. “Pam’s family and family sticks together.”

Blaine leaned into the man he loved and hit his lower lip. In a silent tone he asked, “Has dad?”

“No.” Pam assured her son. 

Clearing his throat, Kurt kissed Blaine on the back of his head. Pursing his lips, he looked to his father and stated in a clear tone, “Okay, I think I can agree with your help, but I have one condition.”

The fact to people held him prevented Kurt from falling off his chair.


	15. Public Outing

“You sure you want to do this?” Carole asked, turning to face her stepson. Holding Burt’s hand, she squinted at the light reflecting off of her husband’s bald head. Dressed to kill in a dark blue gown, her style spoke to the importance of the event.

Resting his free hand on his son’s shoulder Burt, smiled. “I think you already know the answer to that, my dear.”

Shaking her head bobbed back and forth. “He’s been through enough.”

Burt beamed at his son. “When Kurt first explained his wild idea, I instantly shut it down. Then he sold him on its merits, and now I’m his biggest supporter. He’s not my little boy anymore. He’s his own man.”

“He’ll be fine Mrs. Hummel,” Cooper commented with a hint of pride in his tone. The light from above shimmered off his dark blue designer suit as if he had planned it that way.

“So formal?” Carole questioned as she peered over her shoulder with a furrowed brow.

Adjusting the collar of his crisp, cream coloured shirt, Blaine’s older, moderately famous brother mischievously grinned. “Well, if you were not being such a dowager.”

Rolling her eyes, Carole laughed and then wrapped her about her stepson and pulled him close. Kurt let out a surprised little squeal.

Peeking over his shoulder, Blaine felt proud and worried at the same time. The sheer magnitude of what Kurt wanted to do, left Blaine stunned after a whirlwind of ten long days. For three days he experienced cauliflower ear from the sheer number of hours he pressed the device against his head. First came June and an explanation why the production faced another delay. The presence of a CNN news crew in the theatre proved she had pull. Scheuster, proved a pushover even though he had to clear it with the school board. Burt’s side of the endeavour turned out to be much harder and then Blaine discovered Kurt making secret phone calls.

The couple got into a heated disagreement followed by heartfelt apologies and some good loving. A few days into the frenzy, the grandparents left with three children leaving their parents to sort out the last details. The look on the twin’s faces killed Blaine as he assured them, they would be seeing them in a couple of days. A meeting with the backers of the musical did not go all too well, leaving them scrambling. Roger found himself rushing off his feet as he frantically tried to placate the backers where June could not. The plump lawyer earned his fees, which, for some odd reason, he never billed them for.

Narrowed eyes scanned the apprehensively scanned the auditorium and concern for the twins forced Blaine to suppress a sigh. With his arms around each of his children, Blaine sensed their uneasiness and excitement. At first, he did not want his children to be anywhere near this, but after a brief argument, the bell went off in his head. Now, the children watched the huge space filled with people. Katherine stood there boldly in a bright dress of red, yellow and orange flowers studying everything about her. In contrast, Alex rested his head on his father’s leg. Wearing a dark blue suit with an adorable tie sprinkled with Star Wars’ famous droids.

Crouching at the edge of the stage where the curtains bunched up, McKinley’s theatre looked different from what he remembered. Completely renovated, they took out the ceiling and the classroom above to add balcony to seat five hundred. The new stage, complete with larger wings and dressing rooms, looked bigger than the old one. Molded acoustic tiles covered in rich fabric reduced and the waves on the ceiling cut the echo down. The sight reminded Blaine of many of the top-notch theatres he had visited in New York.

In the intervening years the campus had expanded with heavily renovations to older sections. The stands of the former football field became a dance and film studio and large outdoor amphitheater surrounded by tall trees occupied the center the fifty-yard line. Sports remained important to the school, but not in the way it had in the past. Gymnastics helped the balance of dancers and the track and obstacle course gave students a venue to relieve stress. The baseball pitch and the basketball courts sat next to the lush Finn Hudson Memorial garden. Before going inside the family gathered there to give thanks and to remember.

Through Cooper, Blaine learned his father might make an appearance. The last person the youngest Anderson wanted to see, Daniel would show out of pure spite. To his surprise, small packing container sat in the Hummel’s driveway—Pam moved in that morning. Once his emotions settled, Blaine discovered a box he had all but forgotten. Inside, he found a wonderful yellow suit he wore on one, and only one, occasion. Amazed that it still fit, minus a little letting out here and there, he rushed the renovations. Kurt broke into tears when Blaine surprised him with the choice of dress for his important day. Gushing, Kurt wished the blue suit would still fit him and settled for a very nice designer jacket, slacks and printed shirt. To add icing to the cake, Blaine wore the bow tie, he gave him as a present during the long months of their first separation.

The morning of the main event a bald man proved he could cook by producing eggs benedict with a real hollandaise sauce, bacon, homemade hash browns, toast, fruit and cereal for the children. The kids played with each other obviously not aware of the tense event looming on the horizon. In many ways it felt like a special occasion and Blaine loved it. Rachel and Jesse skyped from Prague, joining Mercedes from Tokyo, Artie and Tina from South Africa, where they produced and directed their third Hollywood feature film.

The conversation of a group of older teenage girls pulled Blaine from his thoughts. Tugged Katherine back from the edge of the curtains obscuring them, he could see the girls flop down in the chairs. Slouching with their knees pressed against the seats in front of them, they complained about why they had to attend another stupid assembly about drugs. Worse, yet, the school invited their parents.

Smiling at their comments, Blaine recognized a few of his old teachers mingling with other staff members and parents. For a second he thought he saw Sam’s long blond hair bounce by. Upon hearing of the plan, the New Directions’ musical director insisted they get together. Making reservations at Breadstix, the evening started off well, but then got a little weird. Just after the drinks showed up, a young, beautiful woman barged in and proceeded to give Sam crap about missing their date. Kurt and Blaine found the embarrassing moment vaguely amusing considering Sam’s dating history. He loved Sam in the friend’s kind of way, but at times Blaine shook his head. Knowing he snuck around somewhere today eased Blaine’s fears. Kurt took a big gamble and he hoped it did not backfire.

Chuckling to himself, Blaine glanced down at his little darlings. Slowly standing, he walked the children over to the waiting family. Pausing for a moment, he glanced toward the front row right where television cameras prepared to record the event for later broadcast and the press stood around waiting. The presence of four congressmen and three senators from both parties huddled offstage surrounded by advisers answered the question concerning a police presence inside and out.

With a grin on his face, Blaine approached his husband from the side at the stride of the twins. Overflowing with pride mixed with fear, he leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

Winking at his lover, Kurt crouched down, pulling his children close giving them meaningful kisses. He gazed at them for a moment and then said loud enough for his family to hear, “This is for you Katherine and Alexander. May you never have to face what I did.”

Careful not to mess Kurt’s manicured hair, Blaine stroked his ear. Stepping out onto a Broadway stage had a certain level of apprehensive attached to it, but this felt ominously different.

Looking up Kurt stood and said to Blaine, “Have I told you today, I love you.”

“Often,” Blaine answered with a broad smile.

“Blaine, you have made all this worth it.” Taking Blaine’s hand in his, Kurt kissed it. Turning to his family, biological and adopted, he added with a big smile, “All of you make this worth it.”

“We’re all here for you, kid,” his father commented. He patted his son on the back and then suddenly he pulled Kurt into a bear hug. He whispered. “I never did this enough with Finn.”

Carole grasped Burt’s arm, squeezing it and they lovingly kissed.

Taking his partner's hand, Blaine stared into those heavenly blue orbs and whispered, “I said I would never leave you.”

“Having you with me, make this easier.” Kurt placed his head on Blaine’s shoulder.

Squeezing his husband’s hand, Blaine said, “For better and worse.”

Accepting a kiss from the man he loved, Blaine’s heart felt light.

“Here comes Schuester,” Burt interrupted as he tapped his son on the shoulder.

Will Schuester looked older, well, they all did. Thinner hair and worry lines made him look more seasoned than old. With patience, talent and a few explosions, he worked his way through the system proving reading, writing, arithmetic and science could live harmoniously with the arts. Would-be singers, dancers, writers, painters and filmmakers, poets, scientists and sports stars passed through McKinley’s doors toward a brighter future. The roster of winners included an Olympic gold medalist and award-winning dancer, a film star, a number of television actors, several renowned artists and dozens of published authors. Others found high paying jobs in graphics, or behind the scenes in Hollywood, while most went on with their lives thankful for the chance of self-expression.

Emma, minus her children, sat in the audience along with a couple of old friends. Santana and Britney looked as they had the day of their wedding. Flying in this morning, they briefly greeted the boys giving them well-deserved praise. Not surprisingly Brittany brought up the fact they had not been spending their anniversaries together. With ten years quickly approaching, she made demands and Blaine halfheartedly agreed to discuss the idea. Santana gave him a look, as saying ‘you’re weak’. His words made Brittany glow and it made it all worth it. He missed the quirky mathematical genius who somehow found herself involved in a huge program financed by the people running the S.E.T.I. Project. They seemed to think one of her off in right field brainstorms might revolutionize the way communications signals move through space. Less successful than her brainy wife, Santana had her moments on-screen and stage but not much more. Contented with raising their son, she shamelessly let her vastly more intelligent wife bring in the cash.

Quinn, who recently divorced, sat with Brittany who separated her from Santa. Within moments of meeting, the two got into with their usual flair. The police officer who broke them relented when Sam assured him the two ladies would behave themselves. After sitting they continued to snipe at each other until Brittany made one of her offhanded and witty remarks,

Principal Schuester rubbed his hand together as he had at the beginning of each Glee Club practice a dozen years ago. “Sam’s herding the press into place, so, we might as well get out there.”

“You ready, dear?” Blaine softly asked Kurt.

Leaning in, Kurt kissed his husband and said, “With you, with all of you, I can face anything.”

“That’s my boy,” Burt grinned. He turned to the other federal politicians standing off to one side, staring at their cell phones talking and waved. One of them got the hint and gave the others the nod.

Together, they trooped out onto the stage with no backdrop and simply set with six plush couches arrayed in an arch. The two at the center of the butted arm to arm in a straight line with two couches on the right and left on a slight curve. Blaine and Kurt sat side by side on one with Carole and the twins. Pam, Cooper and Burt sat on the second couch in the straight line. The politicians arrayed themselves on the other couches and, oddly, not according to political affiliation. The volume of the applause signaled not all of audience enthusiastically supported the monitory assembly.

Proudly holding Kurt’s left hand, Blaine hung onto his son sitting couch next to the armrest. The man he loved nervously pumped the flesh on his fingers a he glanced down at the little girl sitting between Carole and his husband. Unafraid to show his affections for his husband, Blaine secretly admitted he needed to feel Kurt. Anxious as all hell, he still had his concerns about the children’s presence, but he believed in Kurt’s vision of family unity.

When the lights dimmed, Will Schuester stepped onto the lit and introduced the guests in turn, leaving Kurt for last. As planned each politician got up and said a short piece relating to the advertised topic. In their own way spoke of drugs, bullying and the effect they had on society especially the young. Burt’s spoke last and his words took a side trip reminiscing about his journey with a young gay son and how he struggled to understand and love Kurt.

Then, with little fanfare, Burt introduced his son and held the microphone out to Kurt. With a quick inhale Kurt stood and walked toward the edge of the stage. For a moment, he stood there sizing up the crowd and then he began to speak. Elaborating on what his father’s comments, he passionately spoke of the punishment he endured in McKinley’s halls. To make his point, he astounded his family by introducing David Karofsky. The former bully walked out from the back to the stage holding the hand of a tall, handsome man wearing a light brown jacket and form fitting jeans. A dozen very officious men in dark blue suits walked behind them and fanned out along the back of the stage. In the middle of the group walked the President of the United States, Hillary Clinton and her husband. From the side teenagers wheeled two more couches while the audience rose with loud applause and cheer. With a few waves, the Clintons took their seats, leaving Kurt facing David on the edge of the stage.

Flabbergasted, Blaine stared at the tense scene in front of him. With sweat rolling down his back, hazel eyes darted back and forth as Blaine tried to comprehend an overpowering new dynamic. Love forced him away from the most powerful woman in the world to the standoff at the edge of the audience. Taller and larger David stood toe to toe glaring Kurt with a hard face. Gradually the applause and chatter faded as the audience sensed the tension on the edge of the stage. Taking a step back, David’s lips lifted into a snarl and then he took a swing at Kurt. Blaine would have been on his feet if it had not been for his son’s weight pressing against his torso. Then, just as his hands reached under his son’s arms to pick him, up the bully and his former target pressed together in a fond hug.

Blaine looked to Burt on the next couch giving his father-in-law a confused looked. The bold man’s eyes went to the first couple and then returned a small shrug. Suddenly, the light bulb went on for Blaine and he smiled—the little bugger. Amazed by his husband’s cunning, Blaine shifted Katherine to his knee and pulling Alex closer. Whispering to his children, he beamed with pride.

It hit the national news in seconds. The presidential schedule placed the first couple at Camp David, yet, here they sat listening as Kurt and David recalled the bullying, the death threats, thoughts of suicide and attempted suicide. Words passed between them about how one of them helped the other through the toughest period of his life and now the other now returned the favour. They spoke of how the Anderson’s and Hummel’s accepted and how Karofsky’s family abandoned their son. Then David pointed at the handsome man sitting by himself and explained how Kurt had given him a dream.

When David went to join Phil, Kurt stood there all by himself holding the microphone. Blaine\s heart skipped a beat when he noticed the look on his husband’s face. Fearing the worst, the inner actor forced him to remain still even as the caring voice of a loving husband silently screamed inside his head. Almost as if he knew, Kurt looked back with a small grin and then emotionally explained the horrors he endured this past year and the love of the man he adored, his kids and family. With passion and no detail, he told the audience of his fears, doubts and how it all came from a drug dropped into a cup of coffee.

Finding it hard to control his emotions, Blaine clutched his children with tears in his eyes. This thing his husband did, went far beyond releasing the monsters infesting his spirit, it reached out to everyone watching. The mood shifted from one of confusion and ‘why am I here’, to something more profound. The hardened press watched with amazement as the cameras captured the sudden rush of sentiment racing through the large room. If Kurt had political ambitions, he had just announced his candidacy to the entire United States.

Blaine found himself looking at David and the stunning man lovingly holding his hand. The look on Phil’s chiseled face told a familiar story Blaine knew all too well. David’s half smiled back, and Blaine winked at his former boyfriend. David beamed and then Blaine looked in the other direction to find Hillary giving him a soft smile. Wearing a long skirt, with her legs politely crossed at the ankles, she held the former president’s hand on her lap. The moment seemed so surreal with the most powerful woman in the world sitting a few feet to his left not uttering a word.

Then, he felt familiar eyes, pulling at him, and Blaine looked up. Out on stage, Kurt glanced back at him with an outstretched hand. Passing his kids to Carole, he rose and happily joined the man he loved. Kissing him his life’s partner on the lips, he squeezed Kurt’s left hand. Smiling back, Kurt asked Blaine to speak from his point of view.

Taking the mike from his lover with a fond smile, Blaine looked out into the audience. In a soft, and determined voice he said, “Let’s speak about the reality of the world around us. It’s not always as safe as we have been led to believe. We would like to think it is and then something happens to shake you to our core. This happened to myself, my husband, my family, my friends. It was like a rock thrown into a calm pool and the ripple out from the center. In a perfect world, the ripple will go on until it fades away, but the world is not perfect. What you think is a personal ripple affects everyone else in your pond creating more ripples. In time you have a turbulent sea with a lifeboat nowhere to be seen.

“This particular rock has a name . . . drugs. Now, we all need to understand, drugs are a reality of life and it affects us all. It is a cancer slowly eating at the fabric of morality, ethics and life itself. Drugs come in all forms, those who help society by curing disease and those which are indiscriminately used to destroy lives. Illicit use of drugs is a weapon used to take away our innocence replacing it with fear, angst, self-loathing and suicidal thoughts. My dear husband is a victim of someone using drugs to a disrespectful and harmful end. He is not in this alone because, I will venture to say, there are many sitting in this room silently suffering. This predator did not come up and simply state his interest . . . no, he dropped a pill into a simple cup of coffee to . . . force his will on another.

“I can describe the . . . things this . . . predator did. I can show you the tapes from the trial and the tears on my face.” Blaine stopped and looked at his husband with water streaming down his face. Squeezing Kurt’s left hand, he swallowed and continued. “I watched this lovely man suffer with self-hatred following his . . . rape. Yes . . . rape.”

Wiping his eyes with the back of the hand he held the microphone with. Blaine drew in a deep breath and smiled at Kurt. “I did not . . . do not . . . know what I can do other than . . . love him.”

Another and a glance back his mother and the tiny smile on her moisture stained face. Squaring his shoulders, Blaine carried on, “We have to realize, as individuals and as a society, predators do not attack girls and woman alone, but boys and men as well. They attach our souls and what it is to be human. They don’t care about your sex or sexual preference, but only their twisted need for gratification.”

Staring into Kurt’s eyes, Blaine fell silent once more. Looking to the quiet audience he said, “The day David tried to kill himself, I sang a song not knowing what happened to him. I would now like to sing it to you as a reminder to be careful, to be strong and, most of all, to have the COURAGE to say NO.”

Kissing the hand, he held, Blaine put the mike to his lips and began to sing.

(<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JdfuhAoA_9M> – Cough Syrup)

_ Life's too short to even care at all oh woah oh,_   
_ I'm losin' my mind, losin' my mind, losin' control._   
_ These fishes in the sea, they're staring at me waoh oh,_   
_ Oh oh oh oh,_   
_ A wet world aches for a beat of a drum, _ _Oh._

_If I could find a way to see this straight_   
_ I'd run away_   
_ To some fortune that I should have found by now_   
_ I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down, come down._

_Life's too short to even care at all oh_   
_ I'm coming up now, coming up now, out of the blue oh_   
_ These zombies in the park, they're looking for my heart_   
_ Oh oh oh oh_   
_ A dark world aches for a splash of the sun oh oh_

_If I could find a way to see this straight_   
_ I'd run away_   
_ To some fortune that I should have found by now_

_And so I run now to the things they said could restore me,_   
_ Restore life the way it should be._   
_ I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down_

_Life's too short to even care at all oh_   
_ I'm losing my mind, losing my mind, losing control_   
_ If I could find a way to see this straight_   
_ I'd run away_   
_ To some fortune that I should have found by now_

_So I run now to the things they said could restore me,_   
_ Restore life the way it should be._   
_ I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down_

_One more spoon of cough syrup now oh_   
_ One more spoon of cough syrup now oh_

Looking out at the sea of long, thoughtful faces, Blaine lowered the microphone. Glancing back over his shoulder at David, he bowed to him with a warm smile. Then the president rose to her feet clapping and everyone in the theatre jumped up cheering. Caught up in the moment, Blaine forgot himself and passionately kissed Kurt for all the world to see.


	16. Stroll Down The Hall

How could eight reporters create a frenzy? Easy, add the top elected official in the country, other politicians, a surprised audience and the auditorium turned into a zoo. The secret service rushed forward, and the Clinton’s stepped back, leaving the other Washington types to haggle with the media. Bewildered by the onslaught of questions, a stunned coupled answered the best they could and until Blaine noticed the look on Kurt’s face. Giving his brother a pleading look, Cooper nudged Burt and they swooped in to politely extract them. It took a few long minutes to achieve freedom with one reporter continued to press about the president. Whisked backstage by a brother, Burt held the fort until a smartly dressed woman joined him. The presidential press secretary quickly organized the general scrum into something reasonable. She started by stating the Clinton’s had come to support a family member. Not satisfied, the reporters pushed because, regardless intent, the Clintons made a very loud statement some of their detractors already made hay with. Flanked by Congressman Hummel and the other politicians, the bright young woman took questions about the related topics getting the members of the house to answer.

A secret service agent allowed the overwhelmed couple pass into the comfortable lounge the Clintons had retreated into. As soon as they entered the room, Blaine pulled Kurt into a greatly needed hug. Over his husband’s shoulder, he spotted Pam crouched down and protectively cuddling Kate. Carole sat close by with Alex on her lap laughing with Bill. Off to one side. Hillary, David and Phil spoke with hatred, but hushed tones. Two staffers talked off to one aide while three secret service agents lingered close to the exits.

Coming up behind their family, Blaine embraced and kissed their children telling them everything would be alright. Slipping in beside him, Kurt whispered to the twins and hugged them. Regardless of the strength his husband showed today, he worried about Kurt’s fragile state. Two days from now they would be back in New York, where they intended to plow into their ambitious production. How would those stresses play themselves out? Would Kurt react when walking backstage? How would the tight knit Broadway community react after today?

Blaine noted David in his line of sight. The large, former bully smiled and looked to the president and his husband. Rubbing his hand over his chin, Blaine looked down at his husband. The charming man held their children close to his sides, while chatting with his grandparents and a former president. Unsettled sentiment tickled his heart at the sight of his powerful friends chatting with his family. Then a conversation started up with the apologetic Clintons, which did nothing to soothe Blaine’s anxieties. At some point Phil distracted the Clintons and Blaine told his mom, he needed a quiet moment with his family. Pam objected until Bill told an agent to keep them safe.

The empty halls of his old school looked different with all the upgrading and art projects on display. Distracted by something set into the wall, Kate hauled Kurt away from his husband while Alex plodded on dragging Blaine along with him. Looking back, hazel eyes nervously fell upon their official looking shadow lingering respectfully in the distance. How could someone live with such scrutiny? Foreshadowing of the life he and Kurt wanted, what would their microscope be? How could children thrive when restricted? He suddenly glanced down at his son and the colour drained from his face. Would the press hound the children?

Kneeling before his son, Blaine drove his thoughts aside with a soft sigh. Doing up the buttons of his son’s cute little double-breasted jacket, Blaine smiled at his son. Bright eyes stared back, giving his daddy a questioning look. In a soft tone, the little boy asked, “What were all those people yelling for?”

“Papa did something very special today,” Blaine told the five-year-old.

Alex pulled at his father’s sleeve. “Who was that lady? She smells like papa.”

“Almost like papa.”

‘Is she important?”

“Very important, Alex.”

“You’re important.”

“I would like to think so.”

Alex hugged his father. “You’re the bestest.”

Happily returning the gesture, Blaine noticed Kate pull away from Kurt and tear down the corridor on unsteady legs. Slamming into her brother, she wrapped her arms about him almost tossing him from his feet. Alex fought back and slapped his sister on the arm. For a second, the look on her face reminded Blaine of Rachel and then she struck back. The two stared at each other and then abruptly ran off down the hall lined with metal lockers excitedly screaming.

Turning to face the alluring man walking toward him, Kurt’s chin hung low, as if he had something to say. Holding a hand up, Blaine shook his head and said, “They’re being kids.”

“I know,” Kurt replied as his left hand slipped into his husband’s right. With a sigh, he leaned against his husband placing his head on Blaine’s shoulder. Blue eyes stared down the long hall to where the kids played with a musical instrument embedded in the wall beside a classroom door.

Swinging Kurt’s hand, Blaine began to walk. Peeking sideways at his partner, he quietly asked, “Are you alright.”

Lifting the hand-holding his, Kurt kissed it. “The moment has mostly passed.”

“I worry about you,” Blaine admitted after feeling Kurt’s lips quivering against his skin. Careful about what words, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me about David?”

With a tug of his partner’s hand, Kurt brought them both to a stop. A cute little pout pushed his lips out as he looked down to the left and said, “Blaine, I’m sorry. I . . . I needed to do something for myself. You’ve been so great to me, but . . . oh, I don’t know.”

Wrapping Kurt in his arms, Blaine held him tight and kissed him on the cheek. “I get it, Kurt.”

“You don’t know how many times I wanted to call it all off. I was sitting in the bedroom a few days ago trying to talk myself out of it, when I looked up at the picture of us on the dinosaur at the prom.” Kurt pulled back and spied the kids studying a comic book character painted on the floor. “At that moment, I knew I needed something more than just standing there and talking.”

With an eyebrow raised, Blaine commented, “David?”

“Yeah.” Kurt stroked his husband’s arm and glanced at the children again. “I could have killed him when he walked in with the Clintons, but . . . wow!”

Blaine grinned to hide his feelings. A pink tongue poked out of his mouth and then he licked his lips. Finding relief in a sigh, he said, “I admire you, Kurt Anderson-Hummel. You handle things much better than I. All the stuff you faced in school forced you to become strong. What did I do . . . run?”

“Blaine, please don’t go there again.” Kurt pulled his husband’s hand to his heart. “Listen to me. Yes, life hurts at times. Yes, it pulls us apart, but it also brings us together. Considering recent events, we both have a right to be moody. The most important thing is to remember that I love you until the day I die and beyond. You are forever, Blaine.”

“I love you more than ever. “Blaine looked down at the floor and gripped Kurt’s left hand tighter. “Yet—”

Kurt placed three fingers over Blaine’s mouth. “You’re brooding again. It happened and we can’t go back. But . . . what a statement.”

Pushing his head into Kurt’s shoulder Blaine said, “You’re the greatest.”

Kurt giggled, and the two men kissed. “You’re wonderful, sweet and sexy, my desert Blaine.”

“Flattery will get you everything.” Blaine smiled, followed by a quick glance to where Alex banged his little hand on lockers as he walked toward his parents. Katherine skipped around her brother throwing her arms in the air.

Blushing, Kurt let his gaze fall to the floor. Drawing in a short breath and said, “I know they came to support Phil, who supported David, but I almost lost it.”

“I saw.” Blaine grinned.

“I hope—” Kurt’s mumbling faded into silence.

Blaine saw where Kurt’s eyes go to where kids pushed the keys of the saxophone stuck in the wall. Wiggling his lips back and forth, Blaine stated, “I said . . . well, that could have gotten ugly.”

“Blaine, gods, I feel—” Kurt squeezed his husband’s hands.

Facing his husband, Blaine took Kurt’s face in his hands. “Dearest, you stood up there and unzipped yourself before hundreds of people.”

“I . . . hell . . . for the whole nation by now,” Kurt sighed as he watched the carefree twins. “Are we ready for the problems being the limelight will bring.”

“I hope so.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“I couldn’t be prouder.”

“Honestly, I don’t even know why they would have bothered? Yeah, we sang at her inauguration when she won her second term, but why this?”

“I can answer your question,” someone said from behind.

Kurt jumped and turned with this husband. The parents looked at David and Phil strolling down the corridor hand in hand followed by a man in a dark suit. Blaine blinked and he felt his chest constrict. Events on stage still played on Blaine’s mind, but with the break, he saw things more clearly. The couples last got together before the Chandler event, and nothing had changed. David appeared no different than high school, just older and much happier. Phil still had those Paris runway good looks along with a long, lean swimmers build. At Scandals, David chased and got chased by burly bear types. It just went to prove love did not have a type.

“David, Phil?” Kurt called to them, with a slight pitch to his voice. The twitch returned to the corner of his eye and his demure had a distinctive edge to it.

“Surprise!” David exclaimed with a cheery look and his arms spread wide.

“More like a heart attack,” Kurt bluntly stated.

Phil’s chin sank toward his chest, then he apologetically said. “Before you go all ballistic on my head, we were talking to Hillary about family stuff last week. I mentioned Kurt had invited David to speak today and that I was going to be there to support him.”

Blaine made a face as that innate sense all parents had told him to look down the long hall. He called out, “Alex, Kate. That’s far enough.”

All eyes went in the same direction. Holding onto each other’s hands the twins turned and marched toward their parents. A few seconds later a stern-faced man in a blue suit, stepped out from around the corner. Kurt stiffened and Blaine squeezed his hand to reassure him.

“They’re adorable,” David’s comment sounding ill-at-ease.

“They can be a bit of a handful,” Kurt replied as he crouched down with his arm open wide urging the twins to run down the hall.

“When are you having one or two?” Blaine asked as he watched his husband brace himself.

David grinned and looked to Phil, who smiled. “We’re thinking about it,”

Phil gave David a look and then glanced at Blaine, “Changing the subject won’t get us out of this, David.”

His eyes went to the left and Blaine drew in a breath. Kurt came into view along with the twins playing a piece of art on the wall. Rubbing the fingers of his left hand together, he let the air slowly out of his lungs and none of the stress. Keeping his words to himself, he rolled his eyes.

One step and Phil moved closer, and said with concern in his tone, “Believe me, guys, I had no idea until Bill and Hillary showed up out back.”

Blaine’s attention shifted to his husband as two kids slammed into him at full speed. Kurt could have stayed upright, but rolled with the blow landing on his butt, laughing as the two screaming children piled on top of him. Bending down, Blaine reached for the Alex just to have a happy Kurt shook his head. The sight brought a sense of warmth to displace some of his misgivings.

Straightening up, Blaine grinned and then looked to his Phil and David who appeared apprehensive. Their awkward looks passed between them as they watched the twins and Kurt. With an eye on his family, Blaine let out a soft sigh and commented, “I can’t believe they didn’t say a word.”

Watching the kids mauling their father, Phil explained, “Hillary told me this was nothing political.”

“Believe me, it’s political!” Blaine did not sound pleased.

Phil nodded and peeked at the shadow trailed behind him. “I know and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Kurt joyfully responded as Alex rolled over his chest and onto the floor while Kate grappled an arm.

Grinning Blaine bit his lip and commented, “Yeah, it’s . . . good?”

“No, it’s not.” Phil gave his shorter friend a sorrowful look before his eyes went to the twins.

It took little effort for Blaine to realize Phil down played things for the sake of the children. Trying hard to be an example himself. Blaine struggled. A little while ago, part of him wanted to scream even though the majority knew having the family present buoyed Kurt. At this moment his husband looked happy regardless of the signs of stress. A puff of air passed over his lips, and Blaine took Kate’s hand and edged her away from her papa. Young eyes looked up at her dad and then she wrapped her arms about her daddy’s leg,

The look on David’s face shifted and he bowed his head, he said, “I’m sorry.”

Looking disappointed, Phil started to say something, but then a secret service agent interrupted and said, “The president’s ready to depart.”

Phil looked remorsefully Blaine and said, “Hillary’s giving us lift to our hotel and members of the house a ride back to Washington.”

“Alex, that’s enough,” Blaine instructed.

Making a face, his son lay on his papa for a bit longer and then slid off. Sitting up, Kurt hugged the boy bringing a smile to his face.

Offered his husband a hand and tugged Kurt to his feet and then politely said to their friends, “You can’t keep the president waiting and I guess we’ll see where this goes.”

“She can wait a few minutes.” Phil replied with an honestly distressed look on his face. “I know this might have placed you in a predicament and for that, I’m truly sorry.”

David suddenly hugged the Anderson-Hummel’s and then grabbed Phil’s hand and tugged. In a soft tone, he said, “I’ll call in a couple of days and we can talk this out.”

Standing in the middle of the hall the Anderson-Hummel family watched the other couple walk away. Other than the nattering of the twins where they played with a moving object embedded in the wall, silence prevailed. Kurt admitted, “That was awkward.”

“When I come down, we’ll talk.” Blaine’s heavy brows furrowed as he protectively held onto Kate.

Kissing his husband, Kurt whispered, “Sometimes can’t believe that we went to their wedding,”

An old man’s head rolled to the right as his eyes sought another picture. Set on a high shelf occupied by old fashion photos sat one of the four husbands standing side by side with lights flickering off a lake in the background. The expression on his face expanded, as a memory stirred and an old mind a key slipped into a lock. For decades lovers played a game of greetings and this particular reminiscence proclaimed a change their lives.

“Lucy, I’m home.” Blaine called out as he dropped his keys in a wooden bowl and the mail beside it.

“Not Ricky?” Kurt responded from the unseen galley kitchen.

“Yeah, right, Ethel.” Blaine closed the metal hall door, ignoring the second bolt when he locked it. The sight of the three locking mechanisms still bothered him, but the neighbourhood proved not to be that bad.

“Mac and cheese tonight?” Kurt called back with a lack of enthusiasm.

Taking his jacket off and hanging it up. Mac and cheese got a little tired, but they had to economize. The start of Blaine’s second year at NYU competed with his shifts at the coffee shop. “Add a little spice.”

“Curry?”

“Okay, but not too much.”

“Ah, your delicate stomach.”

“Your delicate nose.”

“You’re all heart.”

“Share and share alike.”

“No thanks.”

“Add some veg?”

“Peas and carrots.”

“H-m-m-m-m, peasant food.”

Off in the kitchen, Kurt laughed.

Picking up the mail, he flipped through the pile of fliers finding the few envelopes lost inside. Dropping the advertisements in the bin beside the shoe cabinet, Blaine walked around the corner and smiled at the bundle of red, white and yellow blooms protruding from a vase sitting on the coffee table.

Stopping to sniff the flowers, Blaine cooed, “They’re lovely, Kurt?”

“A sweet fragrance for my sweetie,” Kurt’s replied. “Anything important in the mail, love?”

“Something from that production agency,” Blaine sounded disheartened.

Kurt’s enthusiasm mirrored Blaine’s. “They would have called if it was important.”

Turning a six-inch by four-inch silver and white envelope in his fingers, he did not recognize the return address, Blaine opened it and pulled the stiff card and a self-addressed envelope out. With raised eyebrows, he announced, “We’ve been invited to a wedding.”

Kurt poked his head out into the hall, allowing his husband to see a very yellow apron, over a tight lime green shirt. The single word he spoke came out at a high octave. “Who?”

“David Karofsky.”

“Really?”

“To someone named Phillip Cassidy.”

“Where?”

“Burlington.”

“Where’s that?”

“Vermont.”

Shortly after the GPS told them to turn at the last intersection, a police officer stopped them asking to see their invitations and identification. The process repeated itself at the crowded parking lot where another officer told them to park at the end of the block. The news often reported protests at gay weddings, but they saw no sign of a growing disturbance. Showing their invitation again at the door, an usher showed them to David’s side seating them near the back. Looking around, Blaine spotted a burly man with a huge beard waving at him. After an inquiry, Kurt hauled his hesitant husband over to join the group of heavyset men.

Dressed in matching dark gray suits the boys joined over two hundred guests gathering in the large church. Blaine and Kurt had to wonder why a large area on Phillip’s side up-front remained empty. After ten minutes of awkward conversation, they got their answer when a commotion at the doors caught everyone one’s attention. Heads turned to see a former first couple and the rest of the Rodman clan being escorted to the front of the church.

Remembering set a funny grin on an old man’s face. Years ago, a sitting president said all sorts of nasty things about the former politician. Current politics and a call from old comrades convinced one of the Clintons to seek reelection in twenty-twenty. Subsequently voted Speaker of the House of Representatives, no one knew what fate had in store. Seven months later the defunct president grumbled as the chief justice swore a wounded Hillary Clinton into office following the highly calculated and simulations assassinations of the president and his vice president. The bloody act killed dozens in different cities and rallied a nation against the extreme right who claimed they did it to save the country.

Methodist pastor and a Lutheran minister shared the honours of presiding over the hour-long in a old, stone Lutheran church. The reception took place in a large private residence south of the town. Five large white tents set in an X, rested in the middle of a huge lawn backing onto Lake Champlain. The large, brightly lit Victorian house-sitting on the top of a short hill surrounded by huge trees made for a wonderful backdrop. The security officials checked invitations while police officers wandered about the grounds.

Dinner turned out to be a grand affair served by smartly dressed wait staff and wine stewards. Consisting of nine courses, it took three hours before people crowded into the center tent for the first dance. Following a few dances, two men escaped the gaggle of burly men to find a place of peace on the edge of one of the tents. Sipping wine, they leaned against each other enjoying what privacy they could find even though people moved behind them. It did not last when, a little while later, David dragged his newly minted husband in their direction

Turning to whoever called their names, Blaine and Kurt rose to their feet. Before Blaine could say anything at all, an incredibly handsome man thrust his hand out to Kurt saying, “Kurt. Right? David told me much about you.”

“I’m happy to meet you Phillip,” Kurt shook Phil’s firm hand, eyeing the man up and down. An eyebrow went up as if saying—nice.

“You can call me, Phil.” He offered his hand to the other man he briefly met during the reception line. “And you would be Blaine. I would recognize you anywhere from Snoogies description.”

David blushed red and found a piece of carpet laid over the grass to stare at.

A tiny green monster played within Blaine’s heart as he noticed his husband’s reaction. Mixing with his own feeling of seeing David with a handsome man with a perma-smile on his face, Blaine smiled back. He studied David’s embarrassed expression while extending a hand. With a charming smile, Blaine said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Phil.”

“Yes, that’s me,” Phil firmly took the hand offered to him. The tall, handsome man pushed into the greeting and had to shift his feet to remain stable. The smell of whisky brushed Blaine’s nose.

“Congratulations, both of you.” Kurt bumped his shoulder reassuringly into his loving husband as his left hand sought into Blaine’s right. “David, what a surprise. We never expected your invitation.”

“You showed me who I can be.” David weaved on his feet and pulled Phil closer as if seeking support. He had a glow to his face as if he has a bit too much to drink. “Well, you know the story. I escaped Lima ending up in Boston where my life turned around. Can you believe he shoved his number into my pocket at a football game?”

“You’ve got to be kidding?” Blaine chuckled, but Kurt looked puzzled.

David and Phil grinned at each other.

“David, I don’t know what it is about you that people feel they need to pop their number in your pockets,” Blaine replied with a wicked wink.

“Magnetism?” Phil eyes had a similar glassy look to David and the two kissed.

Looking as if he had missed something, Kurt asked, “So, you met, by phone?”

Phil and David exchanged glances and then the larger set man replied, “It was two thousand and seventeen, so what do you think?”

A bright and warm smile flashed over Phil’s face before he glanced over his shoulder to where people gathered in the tent closest to the house. “How would you like to meet the Clintons?”

Blaine and Kurt’s chins dropped at the same time.

“Of course, they would,” David grabbed Kurt by the arm. With his husband attached at the left hand, Blaine got dragged along.

Blaine trembled when they approached the tent filled with recognizable Washington types. The former first couple laughed at the comments of two teenaged girls, seven children and a dozen adults of various ages sitting around them. As if she sensed it, the former first lady turned and with a warm expression and said, “There you are, boys?”

“Hillary, Bill, I would like you to meet Blaine and Kurt Anderson-Hummel.” Phil introduced the two startled New Yorkers.

Standing with a hand extended, the former secretary of state firmly pressed the flesh while Bill had a softer touch. With a big smile, Hillary glanced at Phil, she asked, “Friends of David’s?”

“We went to high school together,” David voice revealed a nervousness.

Bill chuckled and commented. “David, you’ve been around us for, what, two years now. We don’t bite.”

Phil placed his hand on David’s arm and said, “Kurt helped David during that terrible time.”

David glanced at his two friends with an anguished look. “I’m not proud of how I treated Kurt in school.”

Kurt looked uncomfortable, and Blaine squeezed his hand to reassure him.

“We have all done things we aren’t proud of,” Hillary said as her eyes briefly went to her husband. “The important thing is you’ve moved through it.”

“David told us you got married right out of high school,” Bill suddenly stated before lifting his drink to his lips.

“More or less,” Blaine felt awkward. David talked about them to the Clintons. The bloody Clintons!

“Trailblazers,” the former president commented with a broad smile. “In my day I would have given you metals.”

Kurt blinked. “We didn’t intend to at that time. Friends of ours were getting married and, well, it’s sort of complicated.”

“It sounds wonderfully spontaneous. Never forget to have fun. It keeps things fresh.” Hillary pinched Phil’s cheek and added, “The night is still young, you’re young. Get out there and show us old folks how it’s done.”

“Hey, will you guys sing for us?” David beamed at his school hood friends.

An old man recalled two young men digging into the repertoire of duets they normally sang together. Three songs and loud applause later, they danced for a while and then retreated to the lakeside. Sitting on a bench on the dock, they enjoyed the lights shimmering on the water. Their contentment faded when they became aware of footsteps on the planks behind them. Turning, a middle-aged man stood in the dim light, staring at them. Blaine and Kurt started to rise, but the man indicated for them to remain still. Ten days later they auditioned for the leads in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf.


	17. Lunch for Four

“I don’t know about this,” Kurt shook his head as he took his beret off and laid it on the bathroom counter. Tugging at the colourful cloth wrapped around his neck, he paused. A deep frown marred his handsome face when he saw the state of his hair. Leaning into the mirror, he pursed his lips and looked at the bags under his eyes with disgust.

“We’ll see what happens, but I trust Terri,” Blaine replied at the same time his satchel landed beside the sink with a thud. Opening it, he took Kurt’s hat a stuffed it in a free area and then handed his lover a comb.

“Thanks,” Kurt smiled and began to fuse with his hair.

The phone beeped and Blaine swiped up and said, “Speaking of Terri, she says there’s a photographer down the alley from the stage door.”

“I hope he gets hemorrhoids,” Kurt muttered.

Running his fingers through the fluff of shortened curls, Blaine looked down at the wet toque. Outside the rain came down in the form of constant drizzle which, eventually, soaked into his wool coat. Rolling his shoulders and feeling the damp, he commented, “Now, now.”

“Now, now?” Kurt gave his lover a strained look and then he playfully bopped Blaine on the nose. “As long as they don’t have motorcycles and there’s a tunnel in our future.”

“You’re my big princess.” Blaine’s eyebrows repeatedly went up and down.

“Yeah, right.” Kurt stuck his tongue out and then went back to his flat hair.

“Dearest?” Blaine sounded upset.

“I know Blaine,” Kurt sighed and then continue playing with his hair and then he chuckled. “I liked how Terri sent them chasing a little bit of useless gossip.”

Giving his hubby a sideward glance, Blaine mused, “I guess gossips are good for something,”

With his head at an angle, Kurt gave his lover a look. “Is that directed at me?”

“If the shoe fits find a stiletto.” Impishly grinning Blaine cheeked placed his phone in his inner coat pocket.

“I guess I wore heels once or twice in school.”

“Once or twice?”

“Ha, ha.

“Terri really should go into PR.”

“You think she can get them from going through the garbage.”

“Mrs. Peatree’s depends haven’t, so I doubt it.” Blaine chuckled and then he sighed. Pressing the palms of his hands down on the counter as he leaned forward, he gave Kurt a sour look in the mirror. In a low voice, he muttered, “I can’t believe it took them less than a day to dig up all that stuff.”

“All that stuff is private stuff.” Kurt almost spat.

“Roger has made the complaint to the medical board and police.” Blaine stroked Kurt’s arm and slowly turned around, so his butt rested against the counter. “I’m proud of you, Kurt.”

“Oh?” Kurt barely glanced at his husband as he tried to fix his hair.

Looking to his left, Blaine admired Kurt’s handsome profile with a happy grin.

Kurt made a face in the mirror. “Something interesting you?”

“You can say so,” Pink rose in Blaine’s cheeks. “You.”

“Me?” Kurt placed a hand on his chest as if feigning innocence.

Winking into the mirror, Blaine softly stated, “You moved me the first time he laid eyes on you. The sparkle become engrained in my psyche. Everything about you mesmerizes me, including your . . . moods.”

The comb stopped in mid-swoop as one of Kurt’s eyebrows and the matching side of his mouth went up. In an almost menacing tone, he commented, “Moods?”

Shrugging Blaine turned so that his hip now rested against the counter. With an impish grin, he stated, “Mood swings can be fun.”

“Or irritating?” Kurt frowned.

Nodding, Blaine let out a sigh. “We’re no longer those innocent moon-eyed twinkies.”

“You were and still are, the most adorable twink.” Kurt ran his comb under the water and then works it into his hair.

“I love you Mr. Kurt Anderson-Hummel.” Blaine leaned in a set his lips to his partner’s ear.

Half turning so his nose rested an inch from his husband’s, Kurt purred, “I love you too, Mr. Blaine Anderson-Hummel, but not enough to make out in a public washroom.”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” Blaine averted his eyes as the heat rose further up his cheeks.

“Hmm, I can see that.” Kurt glanced down at his partner’s crotch and licked his lips.

Giving the other man a sultry look, Blaine whispered, “Can’t I look at my handsome man and not get a little stiff.”

“I would say more than a little.” Kurt’s eyes went down even though his head did not.

The redness on Blaine’s neck brightened and he leaned closer. Just then the bathroom door swung open, banging against the counter. Jumping back from each other, Blaine twisted his body so that he faced the mirror again. In an instant his hand went up to his hair and he noticed a teenager stomp toward one of the stalls and slammed the door. Seconds later, he wiggled his nose at the unseemly sounds echoed in the long, narrow room. The low grunt from beside him came as no surprise and then, without as much as a hint of his intentions, Kurt turned and pulled at the door leaving Blaine staring. Blaine’s head moved from side to side and he scooped up his stuff. Out in the hall Kurt stood in the place where the corridor turned to the left giggling. Kissing the man, he loved, Blaine slipped his right hand into Kurt’s left and tugged him toward the openness of the café.

Finding their usual spots by the window, they sat side by side as if they expected someone. Outside the sun broke through the clouds signaling the end of the storm. The rectangular wood table butted up against a large window which opened to an outside seating area during the warmer months. Like others in the theatre community who frequented the elegant café, the staff knew the couple by name and always gave them a cheery greeting. Kurt loved their extensive collection of salads and Blaine found their variety of ethnic food delights. Nancy, an aspiring actress, bounced over for a quick hug prior to asking the boys if they wanted the usual.

The first sip of coffee rolled down Blaine’s throat, leaving a warm sensation in its wake. In the corner of his eye, he spied the people in the street before turning his attention to the one person in the world who really deserved it. His charming husband looked adorably cute sitting with his back to the window with his bright scarf bundled up around his neck. Cradling his cup in two hands in front of his chin, he looked content. The dim light poking through the clouds gave Kurt’s face a hint of mystery.

The stomach swelled when a naughty thought floating in his mind resulting in twitching need down below. Blaine found himself leaning closer to get a scent of his shampoo or to study the way his eyes played in the changing light. The difficulties of the past two weeks denied something Blaine wanted. Regardless of the president’s statement, politics came into play. The local representative for the Democrats pressured Kurt for endorsements for her pet projects. After speaking to Burt, the couple accepted an invitation to attend a star-studded fundraiser for the New York Rape Counseling Society with the senator, David and Phil.

A powerful local Republican took a dim view of the interest of his Democratic rivals and stirred up the media sympathetic to their right-wing anti-homosexual agenda. Reporters hounded them and their social media accounts buzzed out of control. The gossip rags started printing pictures from their past dredging up the craziest stuff Sue inflicted on them. They had one or both of them cheating or attending wild gay sex parties and, of course, divorcing. One of the websites brought their kids into the mess by claiming they took Rachel illegitimate children off her hands. Within hours, they joined the St. James’ in launching a lawsuit.

Leaked segments from their play’s script in a conservative entertainment column proved to be a hard blow. In blunt words, the writer called their efforts an affront to the original material, a travesty of debauchery and a threat to the Christian way of life. Soon after, disaster struck almost derailing their dream. While talking to the cast prior rehearsal, the theatre owner stormed in and announced he no longer had faith in the production. They had twenty-four hours to vacate.

A quick call resulted in Roger and Jesse arriving at the theatre just in time to see security people rushing the cast and crew out the stage door. Blaine held a distraught Kurt while Terri, their production manager, argued with the theatre general manager. The next morning a furious June joined everyone in an early morning emergency meeting at the St. James’. Kurt sat next to Blaine staring into his coffee barely saying a word, while June, Jesse, Rachel and Roger urged them not to give in. A distraught Blaine complained they had little hope with no venue. June made a few calls and the producer who signed them to do Virginia Woolf came to their rescue by introducing them to a friend. The middle-aged gentleman ended up being the general manager of a large and well-placed Broadway theatre destined to reopen in a few months after a large renovation. Within a week, Blaine and Kurt signed a new contract and relocated their efforts back to a space at NYU to continue rehearsing.

The breach of contract suit made the entertainment page somewhere in the middle where it became easily lost. It went to prove the media frenzy faded, leaving a few fanatics handing out pamphlets on the sidewalk. All along Terri kept telling them it would all die away, and when it did, the two men snuck away for a date weekend in Meschutt Beach, Long Island. Well, it ended up being a sooth Kurt weekend. The mess sent him into a spiral and Blaine ended up calling Carole for help. Mother and son talked for over an hour with Blaine clinging to his husband supporting him. Kurt burst into tears when his father called a couple of hours later.

That night, when Blaine checked their email, he found a link sent to them by Terri. The tweet gave Blaine a much-needed kick and moment of pause. For weeks his desire to help and protect Kurt controlled his life, and, for the most part, Blaine ignored social media and his apartment mailbox. When he did, anything without a return address or one he did not recognize ended up in the shredder. The tweet opened his eyes to what their friends had been saying since the storm erupted.

Before braving his email, Blaine gave Kurt a tranquilizer and did not want to wake him. Digging into their social media accounts, did his best to ignore the negative and created a montage of positive posts. Hours later, when a groggy Kurt trotted past on his way to the washroom, Blaine made his husband coffee and sat him down. Pulling Kurt so he lay with his back against his chest on hotel room’s small love seat, Blaine showed him what he found. Among them, a passionately sweet video from young girl split the darkness giving them renewed determination. After a late breakfast, they walked along the beach until the sun started to go down talking things through.

Returning home about midnight on Sunday, they picked up the twins from the St James on Monday. Now Thursday, the couple waited for their friends to show up. Two parents greeted their children surrounded by an aura of love. Blaine hated to admit it, but now he recognized how their moods affected the twins. They seemed to know the light had returned.

Gazing over the rim of his large coffee cup, Kurt asked in a soft voice, “Are you done undressing me with your eyes.”

Startled, Blaine blinked and then wildly blushed and ducked his head. Shyly, he replied, “There’s something about you today.”

“My hair?” Kurt’s lips curled up ever so slightly.

“No . . . maybe.” Blaine looked up with bright, loving eyes.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt shook his head, “Well, it’s a mess.”

Blaine gave his husband one of those patented one side smiles. “You look incredibly handsome, my love.”

Leaning closer, Kurt placed a hand on his husband’s bicep, but before he could speak a tabloid magazine smashed against his chest as if thrown from a distance. A startled squeal escaped his throat and then his eyes went wide when a shadow crossed his face. Kurt’s half empty coffee mug clattered to an upright position on the tabletop as he turned to face the angry woman. His eyes went wide and then he shrunk down into his chair.

“It’s all your damned ass fucking blasted fault!” a woman scolded at them from the other side of the table.

“Santana!” Blaine blurt out as his eyes scanned the angry woman hovering him wearing a cream coloured trench coat. “What’s—”

“Shove a cork in it, gay boy!” the feisty Latino growled as she pulled out a chair. The legs loudly scraped across the floor. “Look on page five and tell me why I shouldn’t whip you saggy, loose asses.”

Recognizing where Kurt went, Blaine reached out placing a hand on Kurt’s thigh while holding up the other in an attempt to bring calm. In a quiet but edgy tone, he asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Just open the shit rag and use your squinty eyes,” Santana snarled as she lifted a hand to get the waitress’ attention. Neither man moved and then she raged on, “Just pick the smutty thing up. Page seven!”

Blaine looked at Kurt, who stared back before bending down to pick up the glossy magazine form the floor. Splayed open on the floor the cover had pictures of two female celebrities with a caption about a nasty behind the scenes fight on a movie set. A fat, half-naked man sitting by the pool with young woman occupied the back cover. Fingers grasped the glossy paper and Blaine picked it up. Flipping to page seven, he saw a big picture of Santana and Kurt passionately kissing. The caption read, ‘Kurt’s wants real children’ splashed across the bottom of the image.

Reading over his hubby’s arm, Kurt burst out in a shrill tone, “What the hell?”

“Yeah, what the hell, noodle nose.” Santana huffed and looked to the counter where a waitress collected someone else’s order. “I wouldn’t kiss those slimy lips even if my life depends on it.”

“Hey,” Blaine objected with a red face. Santana could be a right crotchety bitch, but this went too far.

“Read the god damned—” Santana stopped and looked up as the waitress stepped close. “I’ll have a fucking huge coffee and a salad . . . Caesar with tons of garlic and these fat heads are paying . . . and some fucking cheese toast.”

Straight backed, Nancy stood there stunned. Accustomed to the occasional deva melt down, she turned away and headed to the counter without muttering a word. Feeling bad for her, Blaine intended to make it up with a good tip.

“Santana, please calm down,” Blaine calmly said even though he burned inside. Closing the gossip rag, he watched his husband in the corner of his eyes.

“What crap!” Kurt exclaimed at the same time with a higher pitch.

“Crap is right.” Santana snarled. “To think I would let your shriveled little prick poke me.”

“Santana!” Blaine rose to his feet, but stopped when Kurt laid a hand on his arm. Dark hazel eyes turned to see steely blue staring back at him.

“Get over it twinkle butt,” Santana sat back crossing her legs. “I know he’s bigger than a weasel or you would not have screamed as you did.”

Turning beat read with a mixture of embarrassment and anger, for Kurt’s sack he remained calm and simply moaned, “Santana?”

“It’s all your fault because of that stupid assed—" Running her left hand through her hair, Santana let out a loud breath. “Look guys, I know it’s just those fools who write this . . . shit. Jesus, they say. Well, you saw it.”

Blaine glanced at Kurt how looked whiter than normal. Scooting closer, he slipped his hand into Kurt’s finding his skin clammy. Pain rose in his chest as he ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair. From what he saw, Santana had every right to be upset, but, as usual, she misplaced her rage. Releasing a sigh, Blaine turned his attention to the fiery woman across from him.

“What pokey butt,” Santana glared at the curly headed man hard, seething eyes.

“Santana, we do not need this right—” Blaine got cut off.

“You don’t need this. For Christ’s sake, Brit—” Santana leaned over the table with angry eyes. “You listen up, ass puckers, you need to straighten this all out with Brit.”

“What? How does this—” Kurt sputtered with a confused look. Brittany should be here, but Santana’s actions answered all the questions. The mathematical genius came to the Big Apple to attend a seminar on harnessing the electromagnetic properties of gravity as a power source for future space engines. Santana came along for a mini vacation, leaving their son with her mother.

Pointing at Kurt, Santana growled, “No, but’s even your pimply one. You march down to NYU and tell Brit we’re not having SEX!”

In the distance the café manager stepped out form the kitchen to stand behind the counter.

Blinking back his surprise, a hand came up to Kurt’s face. Raking up his cheek and into his hair, his expression suddenly changed, and he uttered, “Right, it’s Brit.”

“What the hell, is that supposed to mean?” The Latino woman pressed into the table pushing it. “I get it. All that snickering behind her back in school while you called her stupid. Listen here, you shriveled dick AIDS receptacle. Just—”

Warm coffee splashed in Santana’s face and Kurt threw his chair aside and ran from the café. Shocked hesitation gripped Blaine and then he blinked when he noticed Kurt escaping out the door. The anger he felt turned into a single memory—the fear he and Kurt felt while the lawyers arguing about the relevance of the Chandler’s medical records in chambers. How dare she bring up something they revealed to select few in such a hateful and senseless manner.

Scrambling to snatch up their coats and his satchel, Blaine tore off leaving a stunned Santana dipping brown liquid. Stumbling passed other wide eyes customers at the door, Blaine ran out onto the sidewalk with an awkward bundle of coats and a leather bag in his arms. Looking in all directions and seeing no sign of Kurt, he felt faint. No one screamed, so he had not been hit by a car. Bloody, hell, Santana, if Kurt gets hurt?

An image flashed in his mind of a curly headed man running through dense brush on a stormy night wearing torn ruffles and a rich velvet coat. A gunshot overrode his crashing waves and the howling wind. Blaine felt the pain in the man’s shoulder and the way he looked to the north. His head whipped to the left, and Blaine’s eyes went wide when he saw a head of hair in the crowd. With his heart pounding in his ears and anger filling his eyes, he sprinted down the length of the sidewalk. Side stepping slower pedestrians, he bumped into a man who swore at him before a courier with a heavy cart forced him to slow down, By the time he got to the corner, he lost Kurt.

Biting his lip to stop himself from screaming, he frantically twirled about. In each direction he saw people looking for a quick bite of lunch. Some ran and others leisurely strolled along in packs. Lunch in New York always filled the sidewalks to overflowing only adding to Blaine’s incoherent thoughts. Where could he have gone? To the day care? Home? The subway? Gods, he could be anywhere?

The increasing number of heavy drops falling about Blaine did not deter him. A little less frantic, he tossed the strap of his satchel over his head, so it came to rest on his shoulder. Wet soaked his sweater as his finger dug into his pocket of the coat dangling from his arm. Finding his cell phone, he pulled it out and swiped up. Pounding his index finger into Kurt’s number. He let out a loud sigh when his husband’s coat did not buzz. Hoping to god Kurt would answer, he groaned with answering service picked up. Swearing under his breath, he pleaded for Kurt to call him.

Drawing in a deep breath, he then called Jesse leaving a message. A finger hovered over Rachel’s number and he looked up at the city around him. Hope faded and then a large drop of water landed on his forehead with a stinging splat. Cursing the moisture, he stepped out of the way of the people scattering for the nearest door. Blaine’s head sank down to his chest and tears welled in his eyes. Wiping his eyes, he looked up through is lashes to see a large cell phone advertisement A young woman stood in a park surrounded by tall building looking perplexed with a phone in her hand. The caption read, ‘If lost, Google will show you the way’.

“Jesus, Blaine,” he admonished himself as he switched to Google Maps. It took a couple of seconds for the application to load showing the New York street grid centered around himself. The next few seconds passed like decades and then another blue dot appeared on the screen.

A cascade of water bounced on the sidewalk as he trotted in the opposite direction toward the unmoving dot. Weaving around a few people, Blaine turned the corner onto a busier street. The honking of horns and the chatter of the people faded around him as worry took over. Kurt did not move. What could possibly have happened?

Turning to the west at the next corner, he came to a halt at the entrance of a dingy alley. Large rolling garbage cans inset in the brink walls overflowed with trash from the nearby restaurants. The potholed pavement looked slick with the slime oozing from the bins. Time and the rain rendered cardboard, which may have been someone’s home, into piles of mush. Looking down at his phone, the blue dot representing Kurt indicated he lay within the ruin somewhere.

Stumbling on a piece of broken pavement, Blaine made a short leaping step to keep his balance, he landed in an oily puddle. Slowly walking forward, his eyes darted all about as the foul smell of rotting garbage penetrated his nose. Cautious of the doorways and little alcoves around him he suddenly jumped to his right. Clutching his phone to his chest, the coats he held tumbled into a pool of dark ooze. The loud hiss of a cat startled him as the mangy feline dashed into the darkness between the walls and a dumpster.

Heaving a huge breath, it hitched in his throat when he noticed the heel of a shoe sticking out from a pile of trash. One foot landed in a with a splash in a puddle as his heart rose in his throat with the thought someone may have mugged his beloved Kurt again. Arriving at the hospital turned out uncomfortably nauseating the last time, and . . . Blaine did not want to think of it.

The sound of sobbing etched relief into his aching chest with the realization it had to be Kurt. Running a third of the length of the alley, Blaine caught sight of his love lying in a tight ball in a pile of boxes and decaying food. Holding his hands over his head as if he had defended himself, Kurt rocked his body slowly from side to side. The heart rose high into his throat and then the pounding eased—no blood. Inhaling the putrid odours surrounding him, Blaine fell heavily on his knees in the oily mush of cardboard mere feet from the man he loved. Grasping his phone, he crawled to Kurt and cozied up beside him. Holding on for dear life, the warmth of Blaine’s body radiated into Kurt’s trembling body.


	18. The Play Must Go On

The boys could not be more ecstatic—opening night with a full house. Did they attend out of curiosity or because of the events of the past year? The upheaval of losing their original venue became a blessing in disguise. Refreshed from the ground up, the theatre heavily advertised their reopening with a new and courageous production leading the way. Kurt came up with the idea of making this night a charity event with the proceeds and donations going to several youth organizations.

Fear and excitement competed with Blaine’s sense of calm as the curtain came down on the first act to enthusiastic applause. Standing in the wings, he watched the men in crisp white tie Edwardian tuxedos vacate the stage. The stage crew swung into action moving backdrops and furnishings in preparation for the next act. Jesse stood on the opposite wing conversing with a group of workers with a pleased look on his face.

Some of the cast jumped and hugged as they charged backstage. To Blaine it meant they thought things went well, even if he nitpicked in his mind. A stage segment did not roll as smooth as if should, or someone did not stand exactly on their marks became imprinted in his mind. Regardless of these little things, his heart swelled with pride.

Letting out a long breath, Blaine glanced down at new outfit. Several strange productions graced Broadway over the years, but no one had put on an all-male version of My Fair Lady—well, My Fair Fellow. Kurt played Edgar Doolittle and Blaine, Professor Higgins. Proud to support the gay community, they hired only gay or transgendered male actors. It made for a few interesting columns in the New York’s opposing liberal and conservative papers which generated all sorts of interest and controversy. To ease the complaints of several lesbian groups they worked on a special version to run during the Friday and weekend matinees.

Blaine closed his eyes and gave thanks while the crew transformed a spacious dining room into moving substages. At the start of the curtain would slowly draw across the stage from the left with each scene revealing several small rooms. Throughout the act the small rooms would be gradually transformed in such a manner the stage crew would go unnoticed. The complicated part came with running simultaneous and complimentary scenes. To offset the script leak, Blaine came up with the idea of balancing the music and spoken segments while the principal actors transitioned between these mini scenes using curtains and lighting. In rehearsal the complicated, behind the scenes actions worked, but the revamped second and third acts would be a huge departure from what they planned. June wanted them to alter the entire play after the leak, but Jesse said they could use the incident to their advantage. Either their efforts would succeed, or they would have the largest Broadway flop in years on their hands.

Hoping the audience noticed the teasing costume alterations near the end the first act, Blaine strolled over to the edge of the stage. Gazing through a crack in curtain he made with his hand, he scanned the audience. The critic for the New York Times sat in the ninth-row center, making notes which could sink them. Their parents, family and Rachel sat in a box next to June and several New York heavy hitters. Across the theatre. Phil, David and one of the Clintons sat in a box surrounded by secret service agents. Judith, who remained a close friend following the river cruise, made the trip over from England without an ailing David. She sat in a darkened private box with an unknown guest. Dozens of Broadway, movie and television stars walked the red carpet at June’s behest giving the opening a punch.

Hazel eyes went down to the pocket watch he held in his right hand—curtain call in eight minutes. Stepping back, he glanced around, noting that everything looked as it should. Carefully constructed sets settled into place as the backstage crew moved the cleverly disguised wardrobe change in between them. By the end of the act the entire cast, except Edgar and Higgins, would be transmuted into women in full ball gowns.

An intent, curly headed man almost jumped out of his skin when a hand fell lightly upon his shoulder. Quickly turning, Blaine let out a large puff of air when he saw Kurt standing behind him with an adoring smile.

“Sorry,” Kurt squeezed his husband’s shoulder.

The tension in Blaine’s shoulder eased as he slouched into Kurt. “The critic hasn’t left, and the protesters are still out front.”

“Boo to the protesters, but yeah to the critic. Any sign of Sue?”

“Not yet.”

“Have you seen Judith’s mysterious friend?”

“Nope.”

“We should march up there and take a peek.”

“Let’s not ruin it.”

“Perhaps you’re right.”

Blaine took Kurt’s hand and kissed it. “How are you holding up, my love?”

Returning the kiss, Kurt whispered, “Does nervous fun describe it?”

“I’m jittery.”

“Well, you’re in good company. The cast is upbeat, and I think things are going well.”

“I have to admit Jesse’s was right.”

“I’m happy I got some of the fun stuff back. I was afraid we would not pull it off, but . . . wow, it’s working.”

“Subtle satire is always good for a laugh.”

Kurt cringed.

Blaine leaned in and kissed his husband on the cheek. “We’ll pull this off, my dear.”

“If not, we’re going to have to move to the Congo.” Kurt frowned. “How many people do you think we’ll piss off?”

“It depends on how much they follow politics, but your father will love it,” Blaine suddenly smiled.

“Senator, what’s his nuts, will have a few words.”

“Let him snarl. I did enjoy rewriting the lyrics.”

“And the lawyers didn’t get too upset.”

“Copyright is copyright. At least we got it in writing.”

“I guess I have better get to my spot,” Kurt watched Terri and their young co-director, Jane, herding people into position. Jane worked closely with Jessie and directed the matinees under his tutelage.

“We’ll kill this,” Blaine hugged Kurt followed by a kiss.

“See you on the other end.” Kurt beamed and walked with a wiggle.

Smiling, Blaine hoped the dull light hid his blush. It became one of those little rituals they did to wish each other luck. It started in high school as a little thing to reaffirm their love and accelerated after they agreed that Blaine should move out.

Walking to his mark in the first room to be revealed, a young man closed his eyes in order to perform a short and private ceremony. Prior to his first solo before an audience, Blaine panicked. David came to his aid by getting him to take several deep breaths. After, he crushed the song, Blaine sought David out to thank him. A few days later Blaine attended his first meditation class with several of the Warblers.

Lying on a couch with his head on his arm of his lover, an old man closed his eyes recalling the feeling of inner calm. Creeping up his body from the balls of his feet to the top of his head the sensation relieved the discomfort in his chest. Over the years he became aware of odd and even enlightening aspects of what he did. Though he never understood it, he felt as if time itself split, leaving his body encompassed by a strangely light. Today, and in his present state, the jolts of erratic electricity shooting from his heart, dragged him back down to earth.

Somewhere within the mix of reality and memory, he noticed something else overlaying the things he saw. Inconsistent forms moved within the mists and then he felt the sudden intake of his youthful self as the curtain drew open. Posing with a book in his hand, Blaine became Professor Higgins. In another place an old mind saw an attractive boy echoing asked a question, “Do you think I’m boring?”

The frailty of age barely came into play as a young man on stage began to dance. At the same time a teenager dancing in a bedroom brought a smile to a wrinkled face. Sparkling hazel eyes watched a nervous boy in a greenish leopard print sweater kneeling on his bed. “Are you crazy? You are the single most interesting kid in all of Ohio.”

Sitting back on his heels, a bashful Kurt replied, “I mean like, sexually. I mean, we are playing it very safe by not granting our hands visas to travel south of the equator.”

“Well, I thought that’s what we wanted.” The hazy form of Blaine in a white t-shirt dancing in front of the bed overlaid the actor on stage.

“It is.” Kurt’s ethereal fingers nervously pulled at his sweater. “I’m just wondering, have you ever had the urge just to rip off each other’s clothes and get dirty?”

Still dancing about, Blaine had an odd look on his face. “Uh, yeah, but that’s why they invented masturbation.”

Heat flared in Kurt’s alabaster skin turning his cheeks red and then he muttered, “So hot in this room, could we may be open up a window?”

“Hey, I’m serious.” The misty image of Blaine hopped up on the bed. “We’re young, we’re in high school, and yeah, we have urges, but whatever we do, I wanna make sure that you’re comfortable. So, I can be comfortable. And besides, tearing off all your clothes is sort of a tall order.”

“Because of the layers?” Kurt pulled at his sweater.

“Because of the layers.” Old Blaine recalled the kiss and how it warmed him down to the souls of his feet.

The scene on stage shifted as the curtain drew half open across the stage. The room Blaine stood in turned so that he looked through a large window into the smaller set next door. Opening the glass pane, Higgins continued his monologue while on the other set, Edgar sat on the edge of the bed singing. Lamenting his emotions for the professor, Kurt sang between the pauses in Blaine’s words. At some point, the actors looked to each to the as if the walls did not exist and their voices rose in harmony. Meeting at the window they stood in front of each other singing. The walls between partitions lifted into the darkness overhead as the sets spun around making a large sitting.

The song changed and Higgins bowed to Edgar before taking his hand. With the servants singing the chorus, the two principals started to dance. Edgar stumbled and Higgins instructed through the music. An old man smiled because it reminded him of their first dance in the privacy of Kurt’s bedroom one afternoon when Burt worked late.

“One hundred years is not enough,” old Blaine said to himself in a graveling voice. Drawing in a shaky breath, he gazed at Kurt’s face through moistened eyes. “I miss you, my dear. What is left, but wonderful memories of the touch of your lips, your hand in mine or the beating of your heart in my ear. The little twist of your hips when you dance. The way you would whimper when tickled the right way. Your sweet voice harmonizing with mine. The way you toweled yourself off after a shower. Penetration and orgasm. These are the things of the living which made you special.”

An ache in his neck, forced old Blaine to rest his head on Kurt’s sleeve. Sniffing back tears, he began to sing softly to himself, but, oddly, to have Kurt's youthful voice mix with his aged tones. A shocked old man felt his heart painfully flutter in his chest. Fear told him to stop, but love trusted the strange sensations caressing his soul.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_irj-sD2Ggc)

_Mmmm, mmmm_   
_Say good-bye to not knowing when_   
_The truth in my whole life began_   
_Say good-bye to not knowing how to cry_   
_You taught me that_

_And I'll remember the strength that you gave me_   
_Now that I'm standing on my own_   
_I'll remember the way that you saved me_   
_I'll remember_

_Inside I was a child_   
_That could not mend a broken wing_   
_Outside I looked for a way_   
_To teach my heart to sing_

_And I'll remember the love that you gave me_   
_Now that I'm standing on my own_   
_I'll remember the way that you changed me_   
_I'll remember_

_I learned_   
_To let go_   
_Of the illusion that we can possess_   
_I learned_   
_To let go_   
_I travel in stillness_   
_And I'll remember_   
_Happiness_   
_I'll remember (I'll remember)_   
_Mmmmm... (I'll remember)_   
_Mmmmm..._

_And I'll remember the love that you gave me_   
_Now that I'm standing on my own_   
_I'll remember the way that you changed me_   
_I'll remember_

_No I've never been afraid to cry_   
_Now I finally have a reason why_   
_I'll remember (I'll remember)_   
_No I've never been afraid to cry_

_Now I finally have a reason why_   
_I'll remember (I'll remember)_   
_No I've never been afraid to cry_   
_And I finally have a reason why_   
_I'll remember (I'll remember)_   
_No I've never been afraid to cry_   
_And I finally have a reason why_   
_I'll remember (I'll remember)_

An aged man wept, and his chest tightened as sharp tingling raced down his right arm. In the present and the distant past, several Blaine’s closed his eyes. Existence swirled and broke apart before the eye of the storm brought a strange sense of relief. Standing in the middle of the vortex stood two men staring into each other’s eyes. Reflected flames danced across polished French styled furniture and crystal stemware. Dressed in centuries old clothing, they gazed at each other as if a world once lost grew around them once more.

A foot landed to complete a right turn while young Blaine’s throat constricted as he sought the high notes. In the present his older self, gasped as the pounding if an agonized heart made it hard to concentrate. The purpose of life, what did it all mean? Why birth and the toiling through the years just too rudely end? Such a waste. To love as he had, as they had, suffering the longing and the misery of anguish. Seeing children grow, go out and start their lives. To change their diapers and then have then return the favour in the failing years of life. The planet, the solar system, all the stars spun for billions of years making this life not even a drop in a bucket. The love Blaine felt for Kurt must carry on. If not, the universe be damned.

Flaring pain threatened to snuff out the light of life mingled with the power of sound through music. Within the vagueness of a slipping existence, a boyish voice filled old Blaine’s consciousness as Kurt sang on the mini stage to the right. The set shifted and another conversion, altered the room. Higgins moved to Edgar through artfully lighted fabric and another subtle costume change. Coming together in a new set, the two lovers faced each other across the stage. Slowly the principals closed the gap, taking hands as Higgins finally confessed his undying love.

Mists played in a sagging mind entangling the nineteen sixties movie and a modern revival. Kurt’s voice and Audrey Heyburn’s joined, while Rex Harrison’s and Blaine united creating harmony. Superimposed upon on one another the four approached the center of the stage and then they slowly parted. Audrey and Rex moved to the right and Kurt and Blaine shifted to the left. Taking hands, the two veteran actors looked at one another and then they flickered out as if someone gently blew at the coils of rising smoke. The murky incandescent shape spun out of the cloudy finger forming a human silhouette. A translucent Finn floated among the supporting actors wearing jeans and a dark t-shirt. Slowly, the wide Broadway stage morphed into McKinley’s auditorium with the apparition of a dead friend standing close to the wings looking out into the dim. Shadows played on his forlorn face as his sad voice rose in song.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9yuMK_fRW4)

_Come up to meet you_   
_Tell you I'm sorry_   
_You don't know how lovely you are_

_I had to find you_   
_Tell you I need you_   
_Tell you I set you apart_

Threatened by failing oxygen, an old man drifted once more onto that grassy hill. A man walked from the greenery and out onto the summit. Another man stood there wearing outdoor dating back to the first third of the eighteen hundreds. Their eyes meet and the mystical landscape faded into the sets of a musical. Higgins stepped close to the edge to look out over her audience singing a famous song from a legendary musical. An old man cringed when he envisioned his younger self standing beside Finn.

_Tell me your secrets_   
_And ask me your questions_   
_Oh, let's go back to the start_

_Runnin' in circles_   
_Comin' up tails_   
_Heads on the science apart_

A secondary actor moved briefly across the Broadway stage to take his mark with broad silver tray in his hands. Santana stepped through man as her hazy existence sang a single, haunting phrase.

_Nobody said it was easy_

Edgar and Higgins responded, but in that ghostly place only advanced age could hear, teenage Blaine and Finn voices echoed a response.

_It’s such a shame for us to part_

Santana swirled around at the second an actor offering Higgins a drink. Harmonious tones became transformed into a coherent phrase.

_Nobody said it was easy_

Separated by time and reality, Blaine and Finn tones surged upward into the heavens.

_No one ever said it would be this hard_   
_Oh, take me back to the start_

Edgar stepped through the transition and a light flickered down from above. The body moved, but its shadow acted differently. Rising from the base of the set, a boyish Kurt found himself next to teenage Blaine. His sweet vocals passed through the huge auditorium giving the audience goose bumps.

_I was just guessing_   
_At numbers and figures_   
_Pulling the puzzles apart_

The third act transitioned into the next big scene as costumes of the supporting cast started to look more like dresses than classic Edwardian tuxedos. The dimness of the fairy tale McKinley brightened ever so slightly as a female form passed through Santana to stand beside her. Brittany’s calm nature picked up where a see-through Kurt left off.

_Questions of science_   
_Science and progress_   
_Do not speak as loud as my heart_

Two more people moved into position on stage playing the roles of courtiers as the insubstantial images of Will and Emma shimmered out of the two NYADA actors.

_Tell me you love me_   
_Come back and haunt me_   
_Oh, when I rush to the start_

Vocalizing with the others, Rachel’s spectral form appeared out of nowhere a few feet from the transparent Finn. Their two voices met and rose above the rest.

_Runnin' in circles_   
_Chasin' our tails_   
_Comin' back as we are_

Many matching tones gathered on two different stages, but an old man heard only one.

_Nobody said it was easy_   
_Oh, it's such a shame for us to part_   
_Nobody said it was easy_   
_No one ever said it would be so hard_

Bellowing mists surrounded the phantasmal voices separating them from the crescendo of the third act roared toward its climax.

_Aa-aa-ah (I'm goin' back to the start)_   
_Nobody said it was easy_   
_No, no, no, no (Yeah, oh woah)_   
_Nobody said it was easy_   
_No, no, no, no (Nobody said it was easy)_   
_Nobody said it was easy_   
_No, no, no, no (No, oh)_   
_Nobody said it was easy_

Lights flashed brighter and the mist ebbed around the smaller sets and vanished. Two young men hugged to thunderous applause as the cast lined up for a bow. The actors of memory bent at the waist, and then popping of Champaign corks became the short gasps for breath forced on an old man by a temperamental heart. The couch felt suddenly cold and heaviness took hold of old Blaine’s limbs dragging him down into the spiral of a dark vortex. The mind screamed as a dreadful and unexplainable tingled through a dying body. The frigid grasp of foreboding carried him off to wherever. The pump in the center of the chest screamed as waves of searing pain raced through his limbs as if the heart spurted its last blood.

Something moved his hair followed by a single point of contact. The chill encompassing the body drew back as if an ice cube melted from that one spot. The journey toward the darkness jerked as if something lifted the soul back to the light only to have the journey continues. Multiple points of warmth added relief against the cold as if fingers lifted the old man in a manner his physical self could not comprehend. No longer bound to a wheelchair, Artie proudly stood beside him with his fingers stretched out as if they held weight. Mercedes looked lively and filled with joy standing next to a boyish Sam. Brittany and Santana stood side by side, grinning at each other, while Tina, supported Blaine with the fingers of one hand while holding a jar of vapor rub in the other. Will and Emma faced each other with their hands pressed under his back. Rachel and Finn settled into place across from Quinn and Mike. Puckerman held the feet and Kurt his head.

The wraithlike presence of friends soothed a tormented soul. Held there by a delicate silver cord, old Blaine sensed the admiration of his dead acquaintances. In the physical world, an old man heard his dear friends serenade him. The last of the group dwelling on the fragile edge of life, the consciousness screamed out looking for a solution to the pulsating blackness.

“Hush, my sweet,” a voice whispered within a dying man’s head.

An old man blinked, and his eyes moved even as his heart beat erratically in his chest. Suffering warped into the warmth of a gentle embrace and the joyful sensation of meeting a dear friend after a long absence.

A hushed voice whispered next to an ear, making old Blaine react as if someone breathed on him. “My love.”

Friends faded like a wisp of cloud caught in the wind. The breeze carried Blaine into a large library where two men in their sixties folded their fingers together. Wearing the finery of the mid eighteen fifties, they pledged eternal love before a roaring fire and the cross of almighty God. Adoring eyes told a story of enduring life transgressing the social propriety which demanded they take on the responsibility of continuing their family lines. True love knew no bounds even if it could only be articulated behind locked doors.

Tear streamed down old Blaine’s face. So much love. So much misery. Life swirled out of the boundaries the rigors of logic struggled to consider. An old man faulted as life rallied against the inevitable as regrets, longings and temptations dragged him from the light.

“No, no, my love,” The haunting voice echoed through the years as if repeated itself.

“Kurt?” A wrinkled hand struggled to touch the face of his departed love. Salty water rolled from his eyes when his love did not look back.

“Yes, my love.”

“How?”

“Blaine, you must let go.”

Blaine, in three instances of time, paused. A triad of Blaine’s looked up and then they separated into their different eras. The two men sitting by the fire in a richly ornate room kissed. Young Blaine rolled over to see Kurt silhouetted by the bright sun sparkling off a slowly moving river. Standing behind a drawn curtain, a husband absently twisted the wedding ring on Kurt’s finger. Passion lingered in three places in time, but then the convulsions of the living pulled the plug. In the present a twisting morass of pain whispered of a lack of belief and brooding self-loathing.

The shifting voice added, “My beloved, suffering is not the path. What was, was.”

Dread beyond anything imaginable bubbled through an aching body and the mind howled against everlasting darkness demanding continuance. Like all machines, the body must end. Internal organs shut down even as ego obstinately pressed on. Arrogance roared its denial as the lingering eddies of human transience surged into foolishness.

“No, my love, there is more,” Kurt whispered.

Something inside Blaine called out as agony exploded within the living form.

“No, Blaine,” The high-pitched, haunting voice called. “Look at me.”

On stage and a century marked in history, men bathed by the flicking light pressed their lips together and sentiment flowed through time into the present. Aged muscles lifted heavy eyes and watery hazel found still blue.

“Is this death?” old Blaine painfully grasped at the words.

“The end?” a two-hundred-year-old man sobbed. A carriage waiting down the slope held his proud and annoying bride the demands of family thrust on him.

“It’s over,” a tearful young man whispered to himself sitting beside a fountain in lonely New York.

“No, my dearest?” Kurt’s sweet disembodied voice said in varying instances of reality.

“No?” many instances of Blaine questioned in unison.

Parched lips felt something moist press against them making breathing easier. A startled old man licked his lips and tasted a familiar brand of lip gloss. Somewhere in the past Kurt picked his young husband and spun him around while Rachel continued to read the divine review in the New York Times. All the while, many fingers lifted the soul toward a bright source of light.


	19. Back To The Start

Joyful.

Professional.

Enthusiasm.

Honoured.

The curtain fell for the last time to the excited yelps of a grateful cast. The moment they could no longer see the audience, they released their hands and many of them hugged. The two men stared at each other for a moment and then slowly embraced as other slapped the on their backs.

A hug. Yes, a hug. That wonderful, heartwarming sensation folded itself into an old man’s body through the memory of the moment. When compared to memory the moment seemed out of place. Where had that come from, well, his dearest love of course.

Fondness.

Tenderness.

Desire.

Home.

A kiss? Oh yeah, a delightful kiss. Staggering pause. Where the hell did that come from? The heart virtually stopped with the touch and the old man saw stars before his eyes. Lips flattened out and the chin quivered as a fluttering feeling slowly expanded from his chest. The recollections of a long life refused to align with the pleasant tingling caressing his skin confusing reality with fantasy.

Emptiness.

Isolation.

Lamentation.

Muddled.

Water soaked eyes went up to Kurt’s quiet, handsome face speculating. For a second an elderly man thought he saw a lovely little smirk on his husband’s lips and then hazel eyes flickered.

Insatiable.

Ego.

Improbable.

Crazy.

The abstract world of emotions overrode the physical pain in his chest. A small chortle stretched old lips and an he found himself on the stage again once more. The cleaning crew moved through the rows of seats as he stared out into the empty auditorium. Coming down from the high of a marvelous night, a young man waited for a very special man to join him. The cast and production crew had already run off to the party, while he waited for his adoring husband drank in the peace of the grand theatre.

Applause.

Joy.

Accomplishment.

Conviction.

Half his face curled up into a lopsided smile when he felt a hand effortless entangle his fingers. Lifting his right hand, young lips found the soft skin of his husband’s left hand.

Belonging.

Contentment.

Safety.

Love.

Shimmering hazel found twinkling blue and then the mists of an ailing mind bellowed up changing the experience. Rows of comfortable seats became hard pews and bright lights flickered like candles. An auburn-haired boy wearing a white robe moved from left to right replacing and relighting candles beneath a high arch of an ancient building. Two men in fancy velvet outfits with cravats coiled around their necks knelt side by side so that their arms touched ever so slightly. Easily ignoring a woman a few pews up on the other side of the aisles and her flustering child, the snuck fond peeks at each other. Speaking in ever so soft tones, they considered their future, believing themselves to be safe in this place of worship.

Control.

Dogma.

Faith

Belief.

Why this? An old man blinked and rolled his head slightly. As a child his parents took him to church and as he grew older, he had no use for it. Years ago, his temple became the man he adored, so why did he find himself questioning religion and the spirit. A little while ago, his husband departed this world for whatever came next. Heaven and hell did not really exist in Blaine’s mind, so how did he feel his moist touch?

Sorrow.

Lost.

Remembrances.

Regrets.

A shaky hand rubbed a wrinkled forehead followed by a short of agony erupting in his back and shoulders. Eyes slammed shut without the expected darkness. Curved stairs bellowed up out of a hazy red dot set in the center of the inside of the eyes where the thin skin allowed the light through. The chatter of students and many feet on wood echoed within the mind as boys in blue blazers scurried to the bottom. Mirrors on the walls reflected swift forms and the light from above. Hurried feet touched each step as a curly headed teen rushed pass classmates only to sense something out of place. What have we here?

Surprise.

Beauty.

Awareness.

Endearment.

A teenager appeared to slow leaving a frozen foot hovering over the rim of a step. At the same time a man in the twilight of his life felt a familiar pull in his chest. Kurt lived no more, but then he stood there almost right on top of him. Bend and wrinkled fingers reached out to grasp his lover’s left hand. The action went contrary to youthful memory, yet, oddly an old man felt something he did not recall—stifling hesitation. Time wavered and young hazel eyes shift to the left and old Blaine’s orbs followed. Wrinkles aside, the face he gazed at looked the same as they had one that fateful day. In the past and the present a small smile spread plump lips. A trembling finger touched chapped lips feeling the familiar sensation of lip balm.

Tactile.

Supple.  
.  
Knowledge.

Renaissance.

As if the gods heard hidden desires, a sliver of light breached the clouds to flicker across open and still eyes. The glint held a marvel which morphed in the mind to a large candle lit chamber. Dressed their finest court dress, a young noble with a stunning blond-haired woman on his arm followed his royal host. Family, friends and guests arrayed around the grand ballroom turned at the deep baritone voice announcing the arrival of the evening’s honoured guests. Standing beside the woman, his benefactor wished he would wed, the curly haired young noble found it hard to keep his eyes from ceremonial entry. His breath hitched in his throat when he caught his first glimpse of the handsome young man wearing a crisp red uniform standing next to his father. The heart pounded in his chest as that voice in the back of his head whispered—Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you forever.

Past.

Present.

Future.

Forever.

The ripples the words created spread out from a center toward rebounded leaving a senior citizen with an impression of awe. Bouncing off other instances where two loving men met, the conjured emotions calmed the pain in his chest. The bubbling mists hounding an ailing mind reshaped themselves and once more, old Blaine found himself once again on those rounding stairs. Time lurched forward, and young Blaine breezed by the strangely alluring teen. Remorse echoed within his soul as his feet hit the floor of the rotunda.

“Excuse me,” someone said from behind.

The heel pivoted on the polished floor as a teen turned to see heaven staring down at him. Stammering joy touched an old man as he recalled what he felt back then. The heart skipped a beat and a dying man sensed something out of place—a bizarrely compelling sensation.

“Um, hi. Can I ask you a question?” The new boy stood on the bottom steps gazing at a teen with gelled down hair. “I’m new here,”

“My name’s Blaine.” The teen on the ground level offered a hand and a bright smile. Elsewhere an old man shed a joyful tear.

The boy took the hand, saying, “Kurt—”

The soul veered and latched onto a faint whisper in time where glistening crystal chandeliers reflecting the image of a timeless and boyishly handsome face. Blue and hazel found each other in those secret places as the ball proceeded around them. Music caressed the couples waltzing around an ornate room with huge mirrors mounted on golden walls. A young noble turned this way and that to catch the glimpse of red. Every time it flashed within the sea of browns, blues, grays, blacks and cream colour gowns, his heart rose.

Delight.

Longing.

Acceptance.

Belonging.

Logic wrestled with ideas it refused to admit. The subconscious grasped the obvious and manipulated rational thinking. Suddenly the music of a ballroom coalesced into something a modern man could understand.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gvoGPIxc4B8)

_I don't know why I'm frightened_   
_I know my way around here_   
_The cardboard trees, the painted seas, the sound here_   
_Yes, a world to rediscover_   
_But I'm not in any hurry_   
_And I need a moment_

_The whispered conversations in overcrowded hallways_   
_The atmosphere is thrilling here as always_   
_Feel the early morning madness_   
_Feel the magic in the making_   
_Why, everything's as if we never said goodbye_

Faint remembrances recalled two teenagers hugging in McKinley’s courtyard following a heartfelt song. Kurt returned to his element encompassed by a mix of happiness and sadness. Saying hello to old friends lifted Kurt’s heart, but the look on a loved one’s face hit hard. ‘I will never say goodbye’, resonated over and over in the thoughts Blaine throughout the long years of his life.

_I've spent so many mornings just trying to resist you_   
_I'm trembling now, you can't know how I've missed you_   
_Missed the fairy tale adventure_   
_In this ever spinning playground_   
_We were young together._

_I''m coming out of make-up_   
_The lights already burning_   
_Not long until the cameras will start turning_   
_And the early morning madness_   
_And the magic in the making_   
_Yes, everything's as if we never said goodbye_

_I don't want to be alone_   
_That's all in the past_   
_This world's waited long enough_   
_I've come home at last!_

_And this time will be bigger_   
_And brighter than we knew it_   
_So watch me fly, we all know I can do it_   
_Could I stop my hands from shaking?_   
_Has there ever been a moment_   
_With so much to live for?_

_The whispered conversations in overcrowded hallways_   
_So much to say, not just today but always_   
_We'll have early morning madness_   
_We'll have magic in the making_   
_Yes, everything's as if we never said goodbye_   
_Yes, everything's as if we never said goodbye_   
_We taught the world new ways to dream_

A tear rolled from aged eyes. Memory went back to Kurt singing this on his return to McKinley after they separated. He wanted the hug from his stepbrother and see the smile on Mercedes’ face. He missed them so much, but then, the heart sank when he looked at the sadness in captured in hazel yes.

Wait? How did he know this? An old man's heart lifted in his chest, bringing a profound realization—Kurt’s mind echoed distant thoughts old Blaine should not have perceived.

Questioning.

Loneliness.

Need.

Learning.

How, became something else when logic refused to answer. Instead, it grasped at the sadness of a young man who wandered the streets until he fallen log on a riverbank to sit on. Out of view from the walkway, he tossed rocks into the slow-moving water as tears rolling down his cheeks. Never had he felt so empty and in love. Did he really feel love? What did love feel like? A puppy? His mother? His father? Never. How did one they suffered from the lamentations of true love? An inexperienced heart knew nothing about it, other than it hurt when they parted and the joy of being together.

Leaning forward with his chin in his hands the pounding of a young heart, felt similar to what an old man endured. Letting out a sigh, haggard hazel orbs glanced at the shelf seeking a single picture. Water blurred his vision, making it hard to find what he sought. Cursing under his breath he wanted to see Kurt’s smiling young face set against the backdrop of that same river. That summer brought great delight and confusing emotions. Fear stopped a teen from speaking to Kurt about what he felt and in hindsight, his hesitance caused so many issues in the months to come. Now, when he faced the largest crisis of his long life, Blaine lost it all. Humanity screamed about a lack of time while the soul wrapped itself in a blanket leaving him wanting more.

Body.

Consciousness.

Soul.

Absurdity.

A shiver ran up the back of a teenager and an adult felt suddenly warm all over. The old saying—you have to let them go—flashed in his mind giving a grieving teen a sense of hope.

Feeling.

Taste.

Hearing.

Liberation.

Embarrassment flashed within reddened cheek. Death, what did it consist of? The mind wondered and the body sensed a chill as if the grave opened. Steam coiled into the air taking on the form of a figure shrouded in a ragged cowl and cloak with glaring red eyes sitting at the table. Gnarled fingers tapped the edge of a teacup creating a tinging sound.

Waiting.

Watching.

Wanting.

Hindrances.

Old Blaine drew in a long breath in an attempt to counter the horrible feeling of clawed fingers tightened its grip about his heart. The dreadfully erratic beat of an internal drum relinquished its hold resulting in a low throbbing. Pains subsided and, old and young, the body stirred with strength.

“—exactly is going on?” boyish Kurt asked as his eyes moved around.

“The Warblers!” Blaine replied with excitement. “Every now and then they throw an impromptu performance in the senior commons. Tends to shut the school up for a while.”

“So, wait, the glee club here is kind of cool?” The new kid looked amazed.

The other teen smiled and said, “The Warblers are like rock stars. Come on, I know a shortcut.”

Hands.

Flesh.

Transgression.

Exhalation.

Hand in hand two teens ran along marble tiled corridors, making for the perfect moment. For an old man, the meanderings of aged logic grasped at straws while the heart yelled— could I go back to the start?

“Not that way, my love,” as soft voice echoed with the ego of a dying man.

Pitch.

Soothing.

Beloved.

Shock.

Agony crashed into old Blaine as his heart throbbed inside its prison of bones. Fingers curled up and senses scattered. The anchor pulled away, sending him adrift as the taste on his lips faded into the depths of darkness where the two points of red lingered.

“Blaine?” a ghostly tone whispered in the expanding gloom.

Denial.

Anxiety.

Astonished.

How?

A fragile grasp on reality slipped once more as old Blaine stared at his lifeless husband. The muscle in the center of his chest constricted once more sending rays of pain throughout the body.

Yes.

No.

Screaming.

Trust.

A shadow, well it looked like a shadow, passed over a face. An old man glanced toward the window to see the clouds tumbled into the slit allowing the sun to shine. The growing dim allowed the chill to return.

Compelled by fear, the spectral vocalization of his life’s love whispered, “Listen with your heart.”

Confusion.

Frustration.

Consideration.

Blindness.

Astonished shame caressed his thoughts and then he suddenly smiled. A throbbing body part tingled and then squired warm, white liquid against a face. The curly headed boy on his knees reassured his timid lover. Gentle ministrations worked up pleasure so Blaine could take the other boy deep inside. The expression of selfless love wrapped two souls together in ecstasy of the ultimate climax.

Hazel gazed into blue as two men held themselves following the loss of their virginity. The pain and fear aside, impaling himself on that huge love stick made young Blaine feel complete. A chin quivered as an old man bathed himself in the sensation of his first time. It would never be like that again, but, then, life collected many firsts. Each time that wonderful penis reached into his body, Blaine found something new. With the events of a busy life, the longing waned might have waned from time to time, but it never died. A fat chubby would grow in his pants with a sultry gaze across a table or fleeting touch on a troubling day. Decades ago, he wished to inhale his last breath with that wonderful cock deep inside him. Now, with the end approaching, an old man found reality more than acceptable.

“Yes, my love,” The voice an old man now recognized vibrated through youthful skin.

Inquisitive.

Stunned.

Overwhelmed.

Elation.

A broad smile pushed old lips wide. Eyes rolling up at his love, a shudder ran up his back. The hands of two young men parted as they turned a corner. Beyond an open door a large number of teenagers gathered and moved pieces of furniture around. Young Blaine looked at the newcomer feeling the strange sensation of spirits joining.

Stopping at the door of a room filled with excited teenager, boyish Kurt stared. “Ooh, I stick out like a sore thumb.”

Reaching out, teenage Blaine pulled the lapel out from under a shoulder strap and patted the boy on the shoulder. His heart pounded in his chest when he somehow sensed the odd warmth caressed Kurt’s veins. With a playful little smirk, he said, “Well, next time, don’t forget your jacket, new kid. You’ll fit right in. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“You knew?” an old man stated muttered in a grave tone.

The smell of coffee, brushed an old man’s nose rendering up imaged of easy mornings watching the sun come up between the building. Someone leaned close and a lover’s soft voice purred in and old man’s ear, “Yes.”

A stoic and stubborn mind rally against the trappings of a vivid imagination creating doubt. The faint murmuring of an old man expressed growing doubt, “Are theses the delusions of a dying man.”

“I hope not.” The disembodied voice of his love replied in hushed tones.

"I don’t get it?” A head moved against the sweater and old Blaine inhaled a pleasant scent.

Hauntingly quite words played on a living man’s right ear. “I love you, Blaine.”

The old man hesitated, and a tear rolled down his cheek. “You’re already . . . gone.”

"Am I?” The smooth words lingered near the left ear.

Blaine tried to sit up only to find his old and ailing body did not have the strength. Letting out a deep breath, he shifted his head on Kurt’s arm. Doubt struck as he recalled an infatuation with an assistant manager—I made this up in my head.

Kurt pleaded with full emotion. “Do you want to be with me?”

The question stung and the image of a heated discussion the two had on a rainy evening in New York came to mind. A young man spoke, “What do you even want anymore? Do you even want this wedding? Do you even want to marry me?”

“More than life?” Kurt’s unearthly tone interceded cancelling reality.

Syllables and emotions mashed together as an old Blaine felt the enormous fear that gripped Kurt during their confrontation. Toothpaste became an excuse of a frightened young man, who did not know how to voice his uncertainties.

Hesitation.

Stubbornness.

Recriminations.

Defeat.

Something touched an ailing heart as if old Blaine somehow sensed the feelings of a man he loved. In that instant the trembling voice of a loved one vocalized, “I admit it, my dear, I was terrified,”

Betrayal.

Renunciation.

Realism.

Honesty.

Squeezing his eyes shut, a reasonable mind wailed against the fallacy of the things he heard. In the corner of his eyes where he should only see a blue a dark form wiggled its fingers. Death sat back drinking tea patiently waiting for the mind to finally give in. The heart sagged with the brooding repentance seething into an old man’s heart. How could be allow himself to fall for such a simple trap? Yes, he hurt and, yes, he minds wandered giving him the best reason to laugh at everything. Kisses and words for dead man, really?

Kurt’s haunting tone accented his thoughts. “Dearest?”

Wisdom told a decaying mind to go with the flow even as he struggled to find a plausible motive for the things he experienced. Why did these two men from a bygone era so often? What did it all mean? Why this nagging feeling of being older than his birth certificate? Older? The thought horrified and frightened a man who always saw himself as a dreamer. Dreaming? That must be it. The sleeping mind could create the wildest shows, but he did not sleep.

A spike of pain shivered through his body up into his hair and down into toenails. In a dark place where the mind refused to perceive, the crusty lips of Death touched the edge of a china teacup. The weight of despair exploded within a staggering mind throwing the body down into the dark pit. Once more an old man felt the many fingers holding him up out of the darkness slowly failed.

Cold.

Decay.

Earth.

End.

“My love?” Kurt sounded distant, desperate and afraid.

The force of hand hitting flesh sent emotion wheeling. A confused child ran up the stairs and the angry voices which once roared in his ears became ugly muffles passing through the false protection of a wooden portal. Tears streamed down his face as the body pulled itself into a tight ball. He hated his father. He hated the internet and his desires. He hated himself for being different. In his mind, he did nothing wrong, but his father’s furry spoke of things he did not yet understand.

Rejection.

Abuse.

Bullying.

Strength.

The door opened and a young teenager pulled his legs up closer to his chest. An old man recalled the fear and then an unforgettable scent drifted on the slow air currents. Undying love overwhelmed the unpredictable pounding of a muscle as a soft temperate wind rolled up exposed skin creating goose bumps. Unconditional sentiment flooded the heart, forcing all lies aside by binding a life to a life in eternal compassion.

Pressing his head down into a stationary arm, old Blaine choked back air. Rolling his head slightly, he sniffed at the air and tenderly smiled. A single word barely escaped his dying, old lips. “Mom?”

The softness of a childhood blanket dispelled distress as tender lips pressed against his forehead easing the torrent of tears. For a second, the adoring eyes of a newborn gazed up at the face of the woman who brought him into the world. Words could not do it justice when the very core of the universe rested within a motherly embrace.

“I’ve always known you were different.” Pam’s phantasmal words overlaid those of his dead husband

“Mom,” the boy of memory sobbed causing an old man to snuggle up against his dead lover’s arm.

“There, there, my sweet.” A strand of jet of hair bushed unruly curls as if gentle fingers past through the strands. “There is nothing to fear.”

“What if—”

“There’s no what if, my dear boy.”

“Mom, I never wanted too—”

“All is fine, my little miracle.”

Thump. Thump. Thump. The rhythm of a shaky heart faded into the gushing passion of a mother enveloping her grieving son in her arms.

Mourning.

Familiarity.

Rocking.

Humming.

Burying his head into a shoulder, his mind told him what he saw, felt and smelled could not be real. On the day his father struck him, her voice soothed. The thought of her voice constantly told him everything would turn out as it should.

Bewildered.

Sentiment.

Knowledge.

Sound.

The peaks and valleys of the vibration of a woman’s humming spread from the bottom of an old man’s feet to the top of his head. Echoing in his bone bones his mother’s love merged with the deep sentiment of the man he loved creating something very real.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ii8Q-z4vdE)

_God on high_   
_Hear my prayer_   
_In my need_   
_You have always been there_

_He is young_   
_He's afraid_   
_Let him rest_   
_Heaven blessed._   
_Bring him home_   
_Bring him home_   
_Bring him home._

_He's like the son I might have known_   
_If God had granted me a son._   
_The summers die_   
_One by one_   
_How soon they fly_   
_On and on_   
_And I am old_   
_And will be gone._

_Bring him peace_   
_Bring him joy_   
_He is young_   
_He is only a boy_

_You can take_   
_You can give_   
_Let him be_   
_Let him live_   
_If I die, let me die_   
_Let him live_   
_Bring him home_   
_Bring him home_   
_Bring him home_

An old man pulled his dead husband’s arm into a loving embrace and the dam finally broke. Sobbing uncontrollably, and old man heard a hushed voice whisper, “Believe.”


	20. A Snake

“I know that hair?” someone said from behind Blaine.

The sugar sprayed across the counter, missing the steaming coffee. An older man pulled back, wondering why his mind went there. Raw emotions played within him as he tried to comprehend everything he saw, felt and heard in the last few moments. Seconds ago, he listened to the voices of his mother and the man he loved. Now, a snake stirred sentiment, leaving him looking about for the apple.

A shudder rolled up old Blaine’s back as he fought to go back to where he had been. Sentiment and logic argued twisted thoughts forcing him away from the fear of the implausible. The scent of his mother drifted away to be replaced by the smell of freshly brewed coffee. An old couple stood next to young Blaine topping their large cups up with cream. A child pleaded with his father for a cookie, and five other people stood in the lineup. Hazel eyes looked down at the counters in front of him, and the mess spread out around the large cup.

Turning slowly, he faced a blast from the past. Icy liquid followed by agony instantly came to mind. Shaking it off, Blaine said in a low tone, “Sebastian?”

The former Warbler and slushy thrower looked pleased with himself. Standing a couple of steps away with his arms folded across his chest, he looked similar but different at the same time. The suit and thick briefcase next to his leg seemed out of place, but the golden tan looked good. Balding, he still had the devil-may-care twinkle in his eye. The grin on his face crawled mischievously up into his left cheek.

“In the ever-loving flesh, country boy.” Sebastian moved with the grace of a cat circling a woman so that he stood next to the prep bar close to Blaine. “Of all the people to meet in New York.”

“Yeah, wonders,” Blaine flatly commented.

“Who would have thought two former Warblers would meet up again.” Sebastian nodded as he set a pose with a smearing grin on his face.

In an instant, the walls of Dalton grew up around a young man. Blaine often thought of those days and the songs drifting down the halls. Then fate struck, and things changed as the forces of nature pulled at him in a way that would shape the rest of his life. Young and old recalled the Limabean and the day he decided to leave the school, which offered him protection even when a slithering reptile intruded. Once, he enjoyed the flattering remarks, also if something chilly warned him. Today, the northern wind passed through the door of a New York coffee shop, and a young man found a defence for a trigger point from his past.

“You're quiet,” Blaine stated. Coffee in hand, he sat across the table with a grin and fondly stared at Kurt, who gazed back with feigned indifference.

“No. I'm being passive-aggressive.” Sitting at the other end of the table, Kurt had a slightly pensive look. The checked shirt, while still fashionable, looked oddly hillbilly on him. “You promised that by the first day of school, you'd make a decision. And yet, there you sit, cute as ever, but still in your Warblers blazer.”

“I can't just bail on the Warblers,” Blaine objected as his face twisted into a playful smirk. “Those guys are my friends. Okay”

“All right, fine.” Kurt’s leaned slightly forward and then sat back. “One final sales pitch, and then we can talk about making over Nancy Grace.”

“Okay.” Blaine delightfully grinned as his head swayed down to the right,

“If you stay at Dalton,” Kurt’s eyes rolled up. “You and I are competitors.”

“That's true.”

“And I'm just not sure that our budding love can survive that.”

“Let me get this straight. I have to transfer because you're just afraid that I'm going to beat you at sectionals?”

“No, I'm afraid that I'm going to beat you.”

“Ooh, ooh, yeah.” Blaine playfully smiled. He liked the look on the other boy’s face when he triumphed.

“And I know what that does to you when I win,” Kurt smirked as he shifted in his chair. “Look, I mean, honestly, I . . . I just . . . I just want to see you more. Yeah, I want my senior year to be magic, and the only way that's gonna happen is if I get to spend every minute of every day with you.”

Blaine woke the next day with those words hanging on his teenage heart. Puttering through his morning routines, he went for a walk after two early morning classes. Wondering to the local park, Blaine watched children kicking a ball around for a little while before heading back to school. His mind drifted as he ambled down the sidewalk making it hard to keep a straight line. Was he leaving Dalton? He loved the place. Singing gave him purpose and the camaraderie left him with a sense of security he rarely felt at home. He had always known of his dissimilarity, though he may not have been able to place a label on it. At five years of age, he knew where his attractions lay. As the hormones of the girls kicked in, he noted the way they chased the boys. When his cravings began to take over, he wanted what the girls had. To him, it felt normal. When the slurs and crashing into the lockers started, he discovered the meaning of his difference. At Dalton, he learned to accept and celebrate himself.

Pondering those differences took months and got him nowhere fast. The simple gift of a hand-me-down laptop unbolted a door that ultimately led to further ridicule. A couple of times, he arrived home with the back of his jacket covered with spit and blood smearing his face. When he confronted the system, he discovered those in charge did not care. One of Pam’s co-worker’s sisters had a son at Dalton and Daniel eagerly argued, if not to get the family embarrassment out of his house.

Feet fell on hard cement, and cushioned soles took most of the punishment. On one level, Blaine considered where every step brought him, and in that other way, he seemed lost. The meanderings of his mind took him many places as emotions pulled this way and that. For a second, his consciousness would fix upon a single thing and then just as fast it would fade. The two of them laughing in the halls, holding hands by the river, sitting in the commons studying and Breadstix with someone he cherished. Most of the time, the two of them hung out at the Limabean breathing in the freshly ground coffee.

Blaine paused and looked back down the street and memory flashed. Kurt had just returned from New York and busily told him the humourous story of their disappointing loss. Old eyes flickered, and he wondered why his mind flashed to one of the most endearing moments of his teenage life.

“You should have seen it.” Kurt sat there in a white coat with an oddly excited look on his face. “We all looked at the top ten list for the showcase, and we all just went numb. And then Jesse kept going on and on about how Rachel and Finn's kiss is what cost us nationals.”

“While I understand passion, I do think that was unprofessional, but—” The words faded away within his mind as the reality of an old life interrupted. The heart raced for a second, sending a spider web of pain out through the body. A faint thread of Kurt drew into his nasal cavities grounding the old man in the memory he now experienced. “—on a Broadway stage.”

Leaning his chin in his right palm with his elbow pressed into the tabletop, young Blaine remembered gazing at the other boy through a haze. A gentle, soothing sensation pulsated in his chest, and he could not stop his lips from curling up at the edges. The three simple words that flowed from his mouth came from the heart without forethought. Hazel locked on the other boy sat there with his coffee held in his hands with an expression of surprised calculation on his face.

The expression changed ever so slightly as that twinkle brightened his eyes. Slowly, even nervously, he said in that high-pitched musical tone, “I love you . . . too.”

Those words rang like a silver bell leaving Blaine feeling light and airy. The weeks of summer flew blissfully by regardless of the snippy comments from his dad. Seeing Kurt send him through the roof with happiness as he tried to control his wild need to embrace and kissed the man in public places. In private, he adored the sensation of intimacy as they cuddled up on watching television or snuck peak across the table with Burt and Carole sitting close by.

Reality sunk in that afternoon in late August, where that simple question slowly overwhelmed the mind. On the first day of school, he found himself in the Dalton commons counting the pro and cons with his fingers. He paused and the slowly looked up to his left as if thinking. Frowning, he shrugged it off and heading out for his first practice of a new season.

The bakery with its luscious tarts and double Dutch chocolate cake seemed to pass by as if he did not exist. He had not even noticed the waving hand of one of his fellow students in the window as he breezed by in a fog. Emotion and thought moved about in the haze, occasionally bumping into one another until he suddenly stopped. Reaching up, he pulled at his tie, loosening it, he realized he felt uncomfortably warm. Rubbing fingers through his stiff hair, he let out a sigh. Light-headed, Blaine reached out and found a lamp post for support as he drew in a deep breath. People wandered by in a blur of motion, and the wind brushed gelled hair providing an exciting sensation. A muscle pounded in his chest, and his knees felt weak.

Drawing in a deep breath, the Warbler shook his head and said to himself, “Damn it, Blaine, get it together,”

Someone inadvertently bumped into him, shocking Blaine. Looking about, he saw a kid bouncing by following his mother. She looked back with an apologetic smile, and the polite teen nodded his acknowledgement. In a derogatory tone, the word—kids—flashed in his mind and then the smiled. He loved the idea of being a father, but, then, he needed to see those blue eyes or experience the touch of soft lips. All along, Kurt knew what he wanted, but Blaine, well, he had not quite gotten there.

Closing his eyes for just a second, Blaine drew in a slow breath, which helped clear his head. When he opened them, he stepped forward, making his way toward the sanctuary of Dalton’s gates. The private school lay at the end of the block and around the corner. Adjusting the bag slung over his shoulder, he made his way along the edge of the buildings. When he reached the corner, he remembered to look both ways. Two cars passed through the intersection using the correct four-way stop procedures. A man stepped out into the crosswalk beside him, and Blaine took advantage and followed along.

Strolling down the quieter side of the street, Blaine looked up at the full trees. He loved the walk. In the winter, it looked stark, but when the spring struck, it took on a whole new life. This year the trees took on a new meaning, which dredged up the beautiful image of singing with Kurt in the lounge before Christmas and their first kiss. It meant so much to him, but so did these simple trees.

Passing through the gate, Blaine unexpectedly stopped. The drive gently curved to the visitor’s parking lot. It felt like home, but then, he just stood there staring. The warm breeze caressed his cheek and pulled at his messy hair. Frequently he would wet his hands somehow to reset the rock on his head, but today he did not care. Running fingers through his stiff locks, messed it up even more.

With a huff, he walked over to a bench underneath an enormous tree planted in the middle of the eighteen hundreds. The huge branches blotted out the sun, leaving a mosaic of light and shade on the grass. Throwing his shoulder bag down, he sat with a thump. Hardwood pressed up against unprepared muscle, causing him to wince. Leaning back and stretched, his ribs cracked, and then he smiled at those familiar leaves. The wind caught the tree, creating a kaleidoscope of colour and he smiled. Leaning forward, he picked up a fallen leaf and twirled the stem in his fingers. He sat there for a while and moved when a twig snapping caught his attention. Looking to his left, David stood at a respectful distance.

“You alright, Blaine?” the chair of the Warbler council asked. He hovered over him from behind with a concerned look.

Blaine’s grin faded into a frown. “Honestly, David, I don’t know?”

“Do you want to talk?” David took an involuntary step forward.

Picking up his satchel, Blaine patted the bench. “Please.”

Sitting, David kept a polite distance. “So, what's up?”

Sighing, Blaine looked at his friend with sorrowful eyes, “David, I don’t know, but . . . I’m thinking of . . . leaving.”

“Leaving?’

“Dalton.”

David altered the way he sat so that he faced Blaine more directly. “Kurt?”

Blaine could not look at his fellow Warbler in the eyes. “It sounds so stupid.”

“Blaine, we can all see it.” The head of the Warbler council watched his friend’s face. Blaine looked puzzled. “When you elected to sing Candles, you made your feelings more than a little obvious.”

A shocked Blaine stared at David, not knowing what to say.

Smiling back, David walked around the bench and sat. “Blaine, honestly, it’s not a secret.”

Rolling his eyes, Blaine looked down at the grass.

Patting his friend on the arm, David asked, “You too spent a lot of time together over the summer?”

Glancing up, Blaine replies, “Yes.”

“He asked you to transfer?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to transfer?”

“I don’t know . . . yes . . . but—”

“No, buts Blaine. We all saw the sorrow on your face the day we sang goodbye to Kurt at McKinley. It’s been lingering in your eyes ever since. You do love him?”

Turning so that he sat sideways on the bench, Blaine looked at David in the eyes. Unable to sustain the gaze, he looked down at his hand, “Very much.”

Placing a hand on his fellow Warblers’ shoulder, David said, “Then you have to do what your heart tells you. Blaine, I’ve been with Betty for two years now. I would love to be in the same school as her, but I wouldn’t look good in a dress.”

Blaine chuckled. “Right, she’s in a girl’s school.”

“Yup.” David smiled. “It’s hard, Blaine. You have the chance to be with Kurt. Take it. We’ll all miss you, but if it’s what you really want, none of us will hold you back.”

“David, it’s not that easy. You’re all like family.”

“Blaine, it’s that easy. You’re gay. It isn’t as if there’s a gay boy hanging from every tree.”

Laughing caused Blaine’s mood to brighten even if he remained conflicted.

David grinned and added, “Don’t stay miserable. You found someone you like very much. We might be young and at the beginning of life, but don’t screw it up. I’ll probably end up marrying Betty. Yes, I’m young, but I know what my heart is saying. Listen to yours.”

“David?” Blaine looked somewhat distraught.

“Blaine, we’ll always be friends, but the needs of the heart are more exclusive.” His friend squeezed a shoulder. “Don’t waste it.”

A couple of hours later, Blaine dropped his bag with a thud beside the back door and slipped his shoes off. With his Dalton jacket scrunched up in his left hand, fingers ripped at his tie, followed by the top three buttons of his shirt. Listening to the solitude of the house did not make him feel at ease. Not a peep from his father became a blessing, even though he longed to hear someone. With a grin, he realized the gurgling of the refrigerator made for odd background music serenading his uneven emotions.

Crouching down to adjust his socks, he remained still for a moment. His jacket, which represented the mark of his achievements and his sanity, tumbled from his hand when he steadied himself. He pondered the silence, knowing it both ate at him and soothed. Sucking in a heavy breath, he slowly stood and scuffed over to the cupboard, he extracted a glass and then went to the fridge. The door opened, and a carton of orange juice found its way into his hands. Putting it all away, he turned and pulled a chair out from the table. Sitting, he sipped on the sweet liquid with vacant eyes and turbulent thoughts.

“Is that you, Blaine?” Someone with a female voice called from somewhere else in the house.

Startled, he hesitated for a second and then answered, “Yes, mom.”

“I thought I heard something.”

“I didn’t hear anyone. Did I wake you?”

“Na had my head in the toilet.”

Blaine’s face balled up, and then his mom came around the corner along with the smell of cleaner. She stopped two steps into the kitchen, giving her son a curious look. Bowing his head, Blaine said, “Hi, mom.”

Pam stared at her dishevelled son with a loving look. Slowly walking over to him, she bent down and enveloped him in her arms. “What's wrong?”

Enjoying the warmth of his mother, Blaine leaned into her. “Nothing, mom.”

Stroking his stiff, messy hair, she asked, “Were you bullied again after school?”

Pulling away from his mother, Blaine looked at her with fear in his eyes.

Stepping back, Pam pulled out a chair and sat. “Blaine?”

“Mom, no one beat me up or harassed me. It’s—” He paused and looked into his mother’s eyes. “—mom I want to . . . I’m—”

“Oh, my dear boy,” Pam suddenly leaned forward, pulling him into a hug again. Silence ruled for several seconds and then she asked, “Its Kurt?

Shaking, Blaine rested his head on her chest. “Yes.”

Tensing up, she said in a firm, almost hard tone, “What has he done?”

Blaine pulled himself up straight and gazed directly, even defiantly into his mother’s eyes. “Nothing mom.”

“Then what?” His mother looked baffled.

His heart pounded in his chest Blaine stared at his mother with a distressed look. “Mom, he wants me to transfer.”

Pam looked suddenly relieved. Shaking her head with a broad smile pulled at her cheeks. “Is that all?”

Her son stared back with a dumbfounded look.

“I’m not your father, dear.” Pam chuckled. “I’ve watched the two of you. I have seen what is going on.”

Blaine withdrew, ever so slightly, anxious for her an acceptance he already knew she gave and in fear she would turn away from him.

“Do you really care for him?” She asked in a soft tone.

“Yes,” Blaine replied with not a need for thought.

“You’ve kissed?” Pam’s tone had not changed.

Blaine blushed. “Yes.”

“You’ve—” A mother’s words had a slight edge to them.

His eyes went wide, and Blaine backed up with a shocked look on his face. “Mom . . . no!”

Pam released a contented sigh. “You want to do . . . that?”

“Mom?” Blaine's face got redder as he lowered his head. Too embarrassed to look up at his mother, he felt the awkwardness and the lust tingling in his toes.

Gripping her son’s chin gently, Pam turned Blaine’s head so that he looked at her. His soft hazel eyes looked red. With motherly care, she said, “McKinley isn’t Dalton. It won’t have the same rules. People will pick on you.”

“I still . . . Kurt got picked on a lot, and I helped him. Mom, I ran from my old school.” Blaine’s shoulders squared, and he spoke with conviction. “Kurt faced it, and while it’s not perfect, his friends respect and protect him.”

Pam looked startled, and then she smiled, the most beautiful smile, but her words rang of caution. “Blaine, his friends aren’t your friends.”

“But they can be.” A son sounded hopeful.

Giving her son a knowing smile, she asked, “You want to be close to him?”

Blaine pulled himself upright. His brow furrowed. “Why are you asking me all this?”

His mother pulled her lips in and pushed them around. “I just want to be clear you really want.”

“Mom, I hate being apart from him.” Blaine’s head sagged. “He’s all I think about.”

“You’re young.” Pam stroked his shoulder. “You sure this isn’t just a crush?"

Head snapping up, Blaine confronted her. “Mom, he sang a song this spring that melted me. Later that week, I kissed him for the first time.”

“You’re set on McKinley?” Pam questioned with conviction.

“Mom, it aches . . . in here.” Blaine placed his hand on his chest as he stumbled on the words. “I . . . I don’t know . . . I just don’t know . . . but . . . wow . . . being with him just makes me feel . . . complete.”

She placed her hand on his thighs. “If this is what you want, I’ll not stop you.”

Blaine stared at his mother with his chin hanging low. “Mom, I really want this.”

“Christ,” a deep, heavy tone growled from behind. A stern-faced Daniel stood in the door Blaine failed to close. He stared for a long time and then scuffed the Dalton jacket across the floor with his feet muttering to himself, “I can buy a new car.”

Those words ate into Blaine for a while. Now an adult, the meaning became obvious. Closing his eyes tightly and opening them again, the image of his father faded away into the shape of a lean, former Warbler. Why did he think of this now?

The thought rolled through his mind, along with the impression of a snake slithering through the corridors of the school he loved. Then, somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt the presence of two men on a hill. Walking side by side in the driving rain, one of them had ridden all night so that they could meet. Down the slope and beyond a ridge rested a large manor house. The man who lived there deplored his family sent a note of desperation. For nearly twenty years, they lived in abject misery because a snake ruined their happiness. While somewhat bittersweet, their reunion this cold, winter’s night gave hope that a far-off land would finally give them their freedom.

A far-off land? A different school? Young or old, Blaine blinked. Wild emotion stretched through time as if a vision became a reality. The parallel sent a quiver up an older man’s spin. In a few months, a snake would spit venom in his eyes.

“Far-off,” Blaine muttered quietly to himself.

With a funny look on his face, Sebastian leaned closer. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Blaine regrouped as a warm sensation spread from his heart. Internal timing spoke of mere seconds, but it felt like a lifetime.

With a wicked grin, Sebastian responded, “Nice to see, and I had such an effect on you.”

Staining to smile, Blaine said, “You caught me by surprise.”

“Cute.” Sebastian wiggled his nose back and forth with a wisp of a grin on his lips.

Blaine blushed ever so slightly.

“Yeah, you’re really cute, Blaine.” He offered a hand. “Always were.”

Eyebrows pulling together, Blaine regarded Sebastian remembering the pain this man inflicted on him.

Giving the other man a sexy grin, Sebastian pushed the hand forward. “Come off it, Blaine, that was years ago.”

Nodding, Blaine took the hand. The instant their skin touched something inside him stepped back toward the door. The memory of a discussion with his mom gave him the strength to believe.


	21. Somethings Never Change

“And your whole bashful schoolboy thing? Super-hot.” Echoed in Blaine’s head, companied with prickling under his skin. Narrow eyes looked down as he extricated his hand from Sabastian’s clingy fingers. Flexing his digits did not relieve him of the feeling he been holding something scaly. While a snake could shed its skin, this particular specimen appeared to remain at home in his.

A polite upbringing demanded Blaine be proper, even if the past told him to run. The smile spreading Blaine’s lips could not be called enthusiastic, nor could it be considered strained. Looking up at the taller man, Blaine noted how those beady, untrusting eyes bore down on him, sending a shiver through time where it rolled up an old man’s back. That devilish little grin of his still had its charms and age did not prevent Blaine from feeling its unnatural pull. The memory of how Sebastian slithered into his life continued to conjure up thrills and guilt.

Memories jumbled by the pains of a dying body, infesting his mind and his fear around the events of his life at that time. As fate had it, the roguish man who once temped Blaine either reframed or did not know of the subject a young heart feared would come up—the public circus surrounding two lovers. At the time, Blaine did not find it amusing, but decades later, he had to chuckle. Sebastian had prided himself on knowing those he converted, but then, when fascination faded, he lost interest. For a young man, this proved a godsend.

Blaine did not care to keep up on Sebastian’s mischief after they parted ways even though Wes, David and Trent often spoke of him. After graduation, Sebastian fell off the radar, and many of the old Warblers felt he finally got his just desert. His reputation suffered following his failed attempt to woo Blaine back to the Dalton, resulting in a challenge his leadership of the Warblers. Agreeing to help Blaine propose might have been an attempt to fix his tarnished image, but it did not last long. It did not take long before the nasty teen found himself embroiled a quarrel with a Warbler with fewer scruples who desired the chairman’s position. Sebastian preselected replacement fell to the wayside when his master caved in and quietly drifted into the background.

No one heard much of conniving Warbler until his name splashed across the news feeds in spectacular fashion years later. The rising oceans wreaked havoc, forcing millions to migrate inland. In many inland cities, the tension between refugees and the local populations spiked. One hot and humid night in outer Atlanta, a group of men walked into one of the displacement camps, killing one hundred and fifty-six people, including children, and wounding dozens. Three assailants survived their encounter with the responding police to find themselves in jail. The trial made world headlines when a devious lawyer twisted the legal system into finding the three men guilty of lesser charges. The resulting riots in the refugee camps ended in the army killing over one thousand. A few months later, the same lawyer, Sebastian, represented the Secretary of Defense, who personally relayed the presidential order to use lethal force. The subsequent arrest of the president, the vice president and most of the cabinet ended the horrible period where national and private freedoms swayed on the edge of the razor-sharp knife. Thankfully the commanders of the armed forces saw the light and refused a presidential order to squash the protests. While this did not prevent more bloodshed, it meant the American concept of a constitutional government survived.

Old Blaine stared at his palm, noting he shook. The things he witnessed again sent razor-sharp bursts of agony into his torso and arms. Forcing his eyes closed, he wanted to forget the sight of the tanks lined up on the causeway waiting. Even though New York struggled with the rising waters, the city took a stand against the dictates coming from the new capital. Through pure will, he compelled his mind back to something easier to handle. The mist created by a mind racked by the pain morphed into beady green eyes. Regardless of the revulsion an old man experienced, those narrow eyes looking him up and down felt better than the barrel of a massive military vehicle. The thumping of his heart slowed easing the pain shooting through his limbs.

Sebastian’s smirked a then said, “You haven’t changed much at all, Blaine. A little beefier is a good thing.”

Shaking his head, Blaine noted that twinkle in Sebastian’s eye. Turning, he looked down and dumped more sugar into his coffee and said, “You look as if you’ve barely changed yourself.”

“You must know, good wine ages nicely,” Sebastian looked to the barista cutting the lady next in line off.

The well-dressed woman gave Sebastian an annoyed look and then gave Blaine a shrug. The shorter man rolled his eyes, indicating the taller, former Warbler with his head. The man standing behind the woman grumbled under his breath and then sighed.

With a silent huff, Blaine went back to his coffee, hoping he might be able to escape before Sebastian got his drink. Visiting the dentist for a root channel fell higher on his to-do-list than catching up with the oddly alluring man. Unfortunately, the egotistical man kept sneaking a peak as if his piercing eyes gluing Blaine in place. Like high school, that devilish glance sent a shiver down Blaine’s spine. The curly-headed man knew better, even if Sebastian’s maneuvering titillated in the same way it had years before.

With an eye on Sebastian, Blaine plucked a couple of napkins from the dispenser and began to clean away the spilled sugar. The man who once pushed a wedge between two lovers looked over his shoulder as if checking on Blaine. Pretending not to have noticed, Blaine finished sweeping the little white granules into the hole in the counter. Off in the back of his head, that voice told Blaine he would have to endure. Folding the paper around his fingers to hide his wedding ring, he picked up his hot beverage and mentally prepared for the battle to come.

Once he commanded the barista's attention, Sebastian demanded, “Can I have a large triple latté with a double shot of Courvoisier.”

“Missing Paris?” Blaine mused as he shifted to his left to let someone else at the sugar.

“It’s about frig’n time they finally civilized coffee in America.” The former nasty Warbler stated as he turned around, blocking the person next in line. “So, what have you been up to?”

Without looking at the man, Blaine kept his answer brief. “Broadway?”

“Oh, not a surprise,” Sebastian ran his tongue across his lips. “You doing any good?”

“Three plays on the go.” Sipped his coffee as his eyes went briefly to the door where more people came in. The locally owned coffee house did better than the chain store across the street. The bright, cheery interior consisted of the original brick of the hundred-year-old building and modern touched, including big mirrors to catch the outside light. Three months ago, they started to offer the special coffees Sebastian now enjoyed.

“Always knew you would make it,” Sebastian moved to his left and gave Blaine one of those cocky, charming grins. “With that dreamy voice and smothering good looks of yours, the world should be falling at your feet.”

“And you.” Blaine ignored the obtuse attempt of seduction.

“I’m a junior partner in a law firm in Miami. It’s fun, and there’s loads of benefits.” Sebastian winked and walked over and leaned against the edge of the prep stand, leering at the shorter man.

“No surprise there.” Blaine turned as if he intended to head for the door.

“This place is a step up on that dreary place in Lima,” Sebastian commented as he stepped in front of Blaine blocking the path.

Frowning, Blaine did not want to barge through the lineup even if Sebastian would let him. Not letting his frustrating show, Blaine responded, “I had loads of fun at the Limabean. I loved the place.”

“Yeah, I did as well. When you were there, of course.” Sebastian winked and then stretched to retrieve his coffee from the counter. When he loomed tall over Blaine once more, he added, “Otherwise it just filled up with McKinley losers.”

Blaine’s forehead crinkled up, and then he started to walk away from the prep counter so that others can use it. The lineup had grown since Sebastian arrived, forcing him toward the seating area to where he might be able to scoot around the end of the line.

“Excellent idea, how about we sit and catch up?” Sebastian suggested directing Blaine that way with the proximity of his body.

Blaine inwardly groaned and glanced at his watch with a shrug.

“You need to get somewhere?” Sebastian imposed himself on Blaine.

“Not quite yet.” Blaine did not want this but conceded and walked over to a low table and sat facing the door. Shifting the chair to the right, Blaine ensured he could see the entrance.

Sebastian took the seat opposite and found himself gazing at a large, garish painting. Adjusted his body so that on foot, fell on top of Blaine’s, the former Warbler asked, “Do we talk about the good old days?”

“First, will you excuse me,” Blaine tugged his foot from under a shoe and his phone out of his jacket pocket at the same time. “I should text my stage manager, telling him I may be late.”

“By all means,” Sebastian flipped his right eyebrow up and smirked. Sipping on his latté, he glanced over the Blaine from an angle. “You must be flying high if you’re being managed?”

“I wouldn’t call it flying high, but we have made a bit of a splash.” Blaine instantly regretted his comment since it opened the door to things he did not want to discuss.

“I would say you have?” Sebastian leaned forward with a wishful glint in his eyes and then picked up his coffee.

Blaine’s mind suddenly sputtered with the man who once wanted him would bring up recent events. The mere thought caused his pulse to rise because he could not imagine the cutting remarks Sebastian inflict on him. Eyes fell toward his lap, where Blaine continued to type while hoping Sebastian missed the colour rising in his cheeks.

Observing the handsome man across the table from him, Sebastian inhaled a large gulp of his spiked coffee and smiled. In a low, almost sultry voice, he commented, “I’ve thought of you now and then. Now that you’re here in the flesh, I remember why.”

“Oh?” Blaine looked up from his text with a surprised look on his face.

“You’re rather unforgettable, Blaine,” Sebastian grinned. “I would never have guessed I would ever run into you again. I have to say it is bloody marvellous.”

Going back to his typing out of view under the table, Blaine stated, “Life is full of surprises.”

“Yes, the world’s a small place.” Sebastian shifted in his chair, pushing his legs out.

Blaine hit send and then looked up while purposely keeping his phone out of sight. “You’re here on business?”

Leaning back, so his jacket hung open, showing off the fabric of his light blue button-down shirt stretched across his chest, Sabastian added, “Fact-finding. I have a huge case down in Florida that involved corporations up here. They sent me up to chat and look into New York laws.”

“Sound exciting,” Blaine noted Sebastian looked at little thicker around the torso from working out.

“I’m enjoying myself.” A foot under the table bumped up against Blaine’s. “New York is busier than Miami, and I would not like to live here, but I’m having fun now.”

Blaine ignored the veiled innuendo and shifted his chair so that he could cross his legs. Looking Sebastian in the eyes, he said, “Always thought you would be a money trader.”

“My cousin’s a trader, and she’s always complaining about the stress.” The taller man rolled his eyes and then sipped his drink. “I wish she would shut up. She whines all the time about the stress, but she loves the money.”

“And a lawyer has no stress?” Blaine glanced at the people around them.

“It’s a different kind of stress with a different way of relieving it.” Altering the angle that he sat at, Sebastian foot pressed against another shoe as leaned back with a confident grin. “Broadway, then?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty exciting. Keeps me busy.” Turning himself just a tiny bit more, Blaine folded his foot under his chair.

“And out of trouble?” Sabastian noted Blaine’s distraction.

“Pretty much,” Blaine muttered as he looked up from his phone.

The lawyer sipped his coffee as a foot pressed up against an ankle. “That sounds boring.”

“I like it.” Blaine looked down at his phone at the phone vibrating on his leg

“So, what’s the nightlife like? Hot, I would think?” Sebastian ogled Blaine with a wink.

“You haven’t tried?”

“Come on. I bet you have a whole stable of admirers. You could be my guide.”

“I guess I could, but then, I don’t get out much. Maybe the occasional Friday or Saturday.”

“Oh, how Lima of you. Trying to keep your county boy cuteness?”

Blaine shrugged before picking up his coffee and took a good draft. A foot rubbed up against his calf forcing him to move his leg again. “I like to think I’ve not changed that much.”

“You live in the big apple and play like you’re in that hick town still.” The expression on Sebastian’s face appeared to be a cross between amusement and disappointment.

Winning the fight not to roll his eyes, Blaine responded, “Not really. I’ve found other things to keep me occupied. Theatre life has its excitements.”

One of Sebastian’s eyebrows went up. “All those boys in hot tights.”

“Perhaps.” Blaine impatiently tapped the edge of his phone on his lap.

“Codpieces and the round butts of nibble dancers,” Sebastian smirked as he inched closer.

“Sorry, no codpieces.”

“Hanging free, now that’s my style.”

“Nope.”

“Oh, how exciting.”

“Life’s been good.”

“But not that good?” Sebastian frowned. “Come off it, Blaine. It must be amazing watching them undress after hours of sweaty rehearsal.”

“I just got back from a trip to Europe,” Blaine pushed his agenda as his eyes looked passed Sebastian toward the door.

“Played about in Paris and Berlin?” Sebastian rubbed his foot up and down the leg opposite him.

“I went to Amsterdam, Vienna, Salzburg and Lisbon.”

“Austria is a bit severe, but I bet you broke a few hearts in Amsterdam.”

With a nod, Blaine recalled making love to Kurt in their tiny stateroom. For the first time since Kurt’s torments, they devoured each other as if it had never happened. With a fond smile, Blaine changed the subject. “How is the legal life?”

“Still playing the hot, bashful type. You’re so cute,” Sebastian tapped Blaine’s calf while he drew a draft of hot liquid into his mouth. “I love it. All that schooling, I talked my father into finally bought my way into Sandford. I’ve argued a couple of cases before the Florida Supreme Court. It was thrilling.”

“You’re doing something worthwhile then.” Shifting in his chair, Blaine moved his leg away.

“Yeah, I guess, but I love the perks more.”

“So, you get to live the good life you always wanted.”

“I have a pool boy who works naked.”

“You don’t need to say more. I get the picture.”

Not perturbed Sebastian’s moved his foot again until it hit a shoe. “Do you remember your days at Dalton?”

“I miss Dalton. I had some of the best days of my youth there,” Blaine replied though he now wished, more than ever, he had made his excused and just taken off. His eyes wandered down to his phone.

“No reply?” Sebastian asked with a naughty smirk.

Shaking his head, Blaine sipped his drink again. Hazel eyes scanned the increasing crowd for someone he might know. He recognized members of the stage crews from the local theatres from their manner of dress and the occasional equipment belt. Men in suits and smartly dressed women rounded out the mix of strangers.

Loud laughter echoed from the door, and Sebastian glanced away to see a group of young men walking in from the street. His expression subtly shifted as if something piqued his interest. Then his eyebrows went up, and he turned to Blaine with a sinful grin and said, “I bet you had your best days considering you were king of the roost and stinking hot.”

Disappointed, Blaine said, “You know Dalton burnt down?”

“I heard about that.” Sebastian shrugged as it meant nothing to him.

Blaine frowned.

“You got upset about that,” Sebastian laughed. “The place was barely tolerable.”

Glaring at the man across for him, Blaine stared at the man across from him and silently sighed. When he spoke, his response had an edge to it. “Then, why did you go there?”

“It was close to home, and the best dad could find on short notice. If I had my way, I would have preferred something in Boston or Washington. What dad wants, dad gets.” The lawyer sipped his coffee and seductively licked his lips. “Besides, it was fun toying around with all those naïve kids.”

“That’s a dreadful way to look at things,” Blaine commented as he turned sideways to get out of Sebastian’s reach.

The troublesome, former Warbler scowled. “Dalton sucked eggs.”

“Really, Sebastian?” Blaine grumbled as an eye went over Sebastian’s shoulder to where he saw someone standing just inside the door looking around. With effort, he fought down the smirk threatening to break his resolute expression.

“There are better places in the world.”

“Lima’s a nice place.”

“Oh, please, Lima is such a backwater shit hole. You left.”

“To pursue my passion.”

“Oh? What might that be?”

“Theater,” Blaine noted that his friend spotting his location and waved. The curling headed man smiled a small smile and then frowned at Sebastian. “There had to be something in Lima you liked?”

“Yeah, one thing I liked, and he played games.” Sebastian leaned closer, giving the man across from him a smouldering look.

Blaine gave Sebastian a stern look. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I, but I will play your cutesy game.” The lawyer pondered his words for a second. “You want to know what made me tick back then. Scandals was fun, and I got some good ass. I had a lot of laughs with some of the . . . well . . . beggars can’t be choosers. The summers were fun by the river with all the jocks cruising there. Winters were a fucking drag. Stanford had a better party life.”

“I can only guess.” Blaine glanced over the rim of his coffee at the person he had initially come here to meet. Their eyes caught and the man walking up behind Sebastian suddenly stopped. Rolling his down to his right shoulder, Blaine made an innocent eye movement this other man would understand.

The former Warbler sitting across the table sat forward and winked. “Oh, yeah. Stanford’s nice and the boys easier than you.”

“Not all of us want just that.” Blaine boldly countered before hazel eyes glanced over the lawyer’s shoulder. His friend held his place with an unimpressed look on his face.

“Come off it, we all want THAT.” Sabastian suddenly placed a hand on Blaine’s knee and squeezed it. “You know, I’m at a hotel a couple of blocks away around the corner. Why don’t we blow this joint and I could show you what Lima could have been like?”

Removing the hand, Blaine’s watched his friend’s fuming face’s fuming face over Sabastian’s shoulder and smugly stated, “Sorry, I’m with someone.”

“You still on the lame game. What they do not know won’t hurt them?” Sebastian made a face. “Gods, don’t tell me you're still with that nelly Chutney ferret?”

Blaine frowned and looked passed Sebastian with a wink.

“He married that nelly Chutney ferret,” Kurt injected from behind.

Jumping in his chair, Sebastian turned with a surprised look on his face.

Grinning at the snake’s startled expression, Blaine calmly announced, “Meet my manager.”

“Kurt?” Sebastian looked put out as he pushed his chair back. It loudly scraped across the floor as he turned to face the new arrival.

Strolling past the sleazy former Warbler, Kurt pulled up a chair and sat beside his grinning husband. The two lovers kissed and then Kurt smiled across at the man he still despised. Taking his husband’s right hand, Kurt insured his custom golden ring caught the light. Blaine put his cell on the table and covered Kurt’s hand with his left, allowing the light to flash off the metal on his finger. For the first time since Sebastian interrupted Blaine’s thoughts, the slushie thrower looked less smug and confident. Blaine loved it.

Keeping his temper and a straight face, Kurt said. “Sebastian, you haven’t changed save the thinning rug.”

The lawyer struggled for a moment, and then quickly recovered, “You look about the same Kurt. I take it, from what Blaine has said, life has been good to you.”

Leaning into his husband, Kurt purred, “Very.”

“So, when did you two get married?” Sebastian’s brow creased as he glanced between the other men. Catching him off guard left him a little edgy.

“Not long after I graduated.” Blaine smiled at Kurt, who beamed back. “It was a lovely and surprising wedding.”

Kurt kissed Blaine’s hand and added, “A truly wonderful day.”

Sebastian cringed, and he turned his coffee cup between his fingers.

“If I knew where you were, I would have sent you an invitation,” Blaine said with a serious face. “But then you left that hick town.”

“Thankfully.” The lawyer took a long draft and set his cup down and glanced about.

“I thought you liked it there,” Kurt mused. “I heard stories about you and Scandals.”

Sebastian blinked, and then his brow furrowed.

“Karofsky told us.” Kurt glanced at Blaine squeezing his hand. “Do you know he married into the president’s family?”

“Hillary and Bill were fun,” Blaine said with a straight face.

“We sang at her inauguration,” Kurt added.

“You’ve gone places.” Sebastian scratched an eyebrow.

“Bill’s flying in this weekend for a charity event. If you’re about, we could introduce you.” Kurt smiled.

“I’m leaving on Friday morning.” The lawyer downed what remained of his coffee and glanced toward the door.

“Are we keeping you?” Kurt innocently asked.

Glancing at his watch, Sebastian lied, “I have a mid-afternoon meeting.”

“In your hotel room?” Blaine flashed a small smile.

“Pity, you could have come over to our place,” Kurt offered at the same time as Blaine spoke. “It’s a subway ride away, but it looks as if it will be a wonderful evening to walk home with the twins.”

Sebastian made a face, and he got to his feet. “If you would excuse me, I should get going.”

“Sure, Sebastian,” Blaine stood and offered him his hand.

The snake departed without taking the hand or looking back. When Sebastian cleared the door, Blaine sat and burst out laughing. Kurt gave his husband sideways glance and then joined in. The text bubbles displayed on the phone sitting on the tabletop his phone read:

BAH 10:46 AM: Bumped in Sebastian. Nothing’s changed. Usual place. Hurry. ♥♥♥

KAH 10:52 AM: Bastard. ☺☺☺


	22. Demons

The exact moment he realized something seemed out of place did not register at first. Kurt had his arm lovingly wrapped about him with a hand rested on the pillow propped up against the high corner of the couch. Perhaps the fact Kurt’s nasal exhaust no longer played through what remained of his natural curls, became a hint. Raising his head so that his neck stretched, an older man’s eyes revolved up to see the man he loved. The first hint of a tear came when his conscious mind finally grasped reality, followed by a long, hard shudder. Slowly, dry lips pressed against the wrinkled skin of a still hand in loving salute to a long life spent together. 

Wait! Maybe a dozen minutes had passed since he sensed that odd feeling deep in his soul. Well, it may be more. Only the failing timekeeper within his chest mattered as conscious thought tried to understand how the theatre in his mind synchronized to the entertainment system. The way the pulse sent out pings of extreme pain told him the years of his life meant little. However, the calm between each erratic beat spoke of infinity. Within this funny concept of time, old Blaine sensed an irregular pressure pressing into a point at the center of his forehead. Where logic told him he should be worried, this eerie sensation reaching down from above imbued calm. The strange pulse caressing his skin traced what appeared to be a single fine root feeding the fabled Tree of Life. Existing in a place beyond the constructions of a human mind, the physical world dissolved into patterns of energy existing beyond the three-dimensional limits of reality. In this ethereal context, everything that mattered resided within the elemental nature of the soul. 

The heart squeezed tight, but not because it wanted to stop. No, an old man drowned in the foaming poison logic threw at the absurd. Contrary to the beliefs of modern man, the forces of the universe moved in ways the consciousness barely recognized. On the other hand, the soul wallowed in the sense of something beyond the mortal concept of existence. Here the dynamics of reality clashed with this unbelievable new realm opening the mind to possibilities and a whispering sound. 

“Kurt?” Old Blaine choked on the emotions conjured up by a single powerful word. His beloved told him to believe, and now, the uncharted workings of something beyond the physical world revealed its sacred truth.

A troubled heart skipped a long beat reducing the throbbing in his chest, allowing an easy breath. As if something guided him, Blaine’s thoughts rolled back to something logic could not transform. In that odd way, something did change as an old man felt the memories of two people occupying the same space represented by a boundless tree. Within the subtleness of an extended root, a loving presence continued to hover protectively nearby. 

“You enjoyed that,” Kurt beamed at his mischievous husband as he shifted in his chair, so his knee touched the man he loved. 

The words echoed the deepest corners of an old man’s mind as if someone whispered them within infused layers of emotion. The newness of this sensation flowed in a realm beyond the one where young hazel eyes fondly gazing at Kurt. Full lips stretched into a smiled, and a young man purred, “It had a hint of satisfaction to it.”

“More like revenge.”

“That too.”

“You have an evil streak husband of mine.”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

The smirk on an old man’s face reminded him of what he felt that day so many years ago. Yes, he felt triumphant and why not. He had finally pulled one over on the slimy man who almost blinded him. In either time period, Blaine tried to forget the endless flirting and pointed innuendo only to have it haunt his dreams. 

Yes, revenge best described it and to celebrate, and the ageing man’s head rolled from the arm of his lifeless lover against a blanket squished between the two men and their couch. Normally they snuggled beneath the plush fabric in their pyjamas leaning against each other. Even though the thick, fuzzy material warmed arthritic joints, the comforter symbolized the way age altered their intimacy into a long moment of gentle caressed and careful hugs. A warm feeling spread through his extremities with the fondness the scent rising from the cloth conjured up. Something felt out of place and it told Blaine of his young husband’s desire to pick up his phone and check its history. 

“You just happened to run into him?” Kurt’s thoughtless words tumbled within the sinews of an aged mind in discord with his memories of the moment. 

Decades ago, Blaine’s back slapped hard against the metal back of the chair and in the present and the old man felt the discomfort. In that disjointed way, his jaw dropped twice. In the past, narrow hazel eyes glared at his husband and in the present, he felt a wave of sorrow rush his body, keeping it in place. 

Kurt’s eyes went wide, and he quickly snatched up Blaine’s hand, squeezing it. In a low, almost pitiful tone, he pleaded, “Dearest, I’m sorry. It’s . . . well, you know how much that man bothers me.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Blaine glanced away at the lineup and drew in a deep breath. Looking back, he found the expression on his husband’s face hard to bear. Shamefully grinning, he patted his husband’s hand and whispered, “I understand.”

Kurt squeezed back, his lips curling up into a passive smile.

Leaning into his husband, Blaine held his gaze for a moment. In a meaningful tone, he said, “Let me get you a coffee and then we can talk.”

“About?” Kurt gave his lover an oddly hard stare. 

Elsewhere, an old man felt the temperature of his husband’s sexy body rise where the light embers of distress simmered. In his mind, a young, curly headed man stood before pressing his hand against Kurt’s cheek and saying, “Past demons.”

Kurt swallowed hard even though the sight of Blaine’s swaying posterior made him smirk. Blue eyes nervously went to the door and then back to his husband standing in the small lineup. 

Surrounded by the anomalous sense of duality, old Blaine felt the uneasiness in the way his partner sucked in a large draft of air. An older adult and his young husband bit their upper lips, but only Kurt scratched his cheek with the back of his thumb. Eyebrows pushed together wrinkling his youthful forehead as fear touched Kurt’s heart. Though at the time, Kurt’s mumblings rambled within an older mind. “Na . . . before Blaine. Nope, was a kid. That? Well, it might not count . . . or maybe it might. Bugger.”

Feeling suddenly lightheaded and old man worried. The logical mind stumbled with the unfathomable truth while some other facet of Blaine’s being relished something new. In that way, and venerable Blaine felt Kurt rubbing his hands together while watching his husband. The adorable, curly headed man looked content or, perhaps, a bit too content. Why? Could have that vile person who had swept out of their lives like a tornado left an oily residue in its wake?

The emotion resonating from Kurt rendered in an old man’s brain, producing a deep sensation of yuk. Until now, Blaine, young or old, had no idea what affect Sebastian had on his loving husband. Yes, they talked about it, but for some reason, Kurt found it hard to forgive. It went deeper than old Blaine thought, sparking a deep memory to well up from his soul. Two men ran into the spray of water, reaching for a bobbing boat anchored by a rock tied to a submerged rock. The shorter man held the other under the shoulder as he helped his injured companion deeper into the surf. A wave exploded as if something struck in at a high velocity, sending splashes into the air. The man in soaked velvet cloths looked back toward the land to see their assailant up the slope wrapped in a cloak flapping in the blustering wind. Highlighted by a flash of lightning, the brightness revealed this tall man pounded another shot into his muzzle loaded rifle. 

The sight took an old man’s breath away and then he blinked, bringing Kurt’s thoughts back into focus. His fair-skinned lover looked toward the café door where the ghost hung silhouetted in the dim of a stormy night laughing. Uncomfortable pressure encroached upon Kurt’s chest, causing the lingering vestiges of dreadful imagination to liquefy. Shaking his head, Kurt glanced toward the lovely man he adored standing in the line only to see Blaine glance back with a playful look on his face. 

This time a vacant chair sitting next to him came into became the focal point. Kurt scowled as he pulled his foot up to his knee, he balanced the ankle there on the crossbar between chair legs. Plopping his chin in his palm, he leaned forward, and this his eyes suddenly went wide. Rolling their sockets blue eyes fixated on his husband, where he studied the dessert cabinet. Perhaps he would pick up a couple of those sugary, cream-filled cookies? Kurt’s head bobbed back and forth at the thought of the delightful morsels and then he suddenly stopped. 

The images senior Blaine experienced became fuzzy and he focused on his younger self thinking about ordering Kurt’s favourite cookies. The man in front of him moved and Blaine concentrated on the task of placing his order. When he finished, his eyes fell to his watch and he grinned. Rachel would be picking up the twins by now with the intent to watch the latest animated movie allowing Blaine to put his plan in motion. Stepping away from the counter, a jubilant husband glanced toward Kurt and waved.

Putting on a brave face, Kurt gestured back, feeling kind of fake. Suddenly, he glanced away and begun twisting his wedding wing. His heart virtually stopped when he noticed he had absently twisted the symbol of his love from his finger. Blue eyes went wide, and then the glanced quickly toward the coffee bar hoping Blaine had not noticed. Pushing it back on, he wondered how he could do this. 

Old eyes shot open with the rawness he sensed from his young husband at that moment. Typically, he had no idea, and the feeling forced his old mind to ponder what he saw and felt. Back then, he had been so blind and now guilt bubbling within his already straining heart. Fighting to keep his mind on topic, he could not let ‘what if’ or ‘why not’ overpowering what he experienced. 

“Oh, my god, he’s coming.” Kurt tensed up, and his foot fell to the floor with a thump. “Right, calm. Let’s talk rationally. It’s not that bad?”

An older version of Blaine felt his husband’s dread when youthful Blaine bounced back to the table. Dropping the bag of delectable treats onto the table, he lowered to large café mochas with a charming smile. Sitting, he pulled his chair up so that his legs touched his husband, he enthusiastically said, “They did not have the cream cookies, but you always liked these ones.”

“Goodie,” Kurt’s voice rose to a high pitch. A bead of sweat rolled down his back, making him feel unclean. “Blaine?”

Blaine cut him off by shoving a small bit of cookie in his husband’s mouth.

Gagging, Kurt swallowed it almost in one big chunk. “Blaine, I need to—”

“You need to have another bite?”

“I—”

“Kurt, what?”

“Will you let me speak?”

“You look so cute when you’re flustered.”

“Did you sleep with Sebastian?” Kurt suddenly blurted out, fighting to control his volume. 

“What?” Blaine’s eyes bulged.

Balling his fists up, Kurt pressed them into his face. “Damn, damn, damn.”

The reaction befuddled Blaine, and then he noticed the honest frustration infected the man he loved. Pulling his dear husband close, he softly said, “You have been sliding around in the chair like a cat on a hot roof. Is that what’s bothering you?”

“Blaine, I’m an idiot for saying that.” Kurt looked down his hands.

“No, you’re sweetly jealous.” Blaine took Kurt’s hands and kissed both of them on the knuckles. 

Quivering, Kurt stumbled, “Then, you never?”

“No, but . . . honestly, I thought about it way back when.”

“After or during?”

“During.”

Kurt suddenly looked down and away, and the sight broke Blaine’s heart. Still holding his husband’s hands, Blaine caressed both with his thumbs. “Kurt, there’s something animal about him that drives me to distraction.”

“But?”

“No, buts Kurt. He’s dangerous. Like all animals, he’ll play hard, fast and will drop you when the next fling comes along. It was almost as if he were—”

“What? A test for fooling around while I—” Kurt shut his mouth, and his face went white. Sitting there for a couple of seconds, he suddenly whispered. “Stupid me.”

Within his head, Blaine rebuked himself. On the outside, he tenderly rubbed the back of his love’s hand, having decided they would not go down that path again. “Kurt, what is, is. We only learn from it. The whole sorry episode slapped me in the face with the wonderful reality that we are two souls meant to be together. You’re my pillow and comforter all rolled up into one. You are there when I go to bed and when I wake in the morning. That is something more important than just . . . THAT. Mind you, you’re so good at just . . . THAT.”

Six words echoed within the old man’s heart. In his memory, he heard Kurt make a rolling, deep-throated cat-like sound.

Blaine grinned, and he kissed Kurt’s left hand. Looking up through his thick lashes, he added, “I can’t—”

“No, Blaine, may I?”

One of Blaine’s eyebrows went up. He had not planned for the day to go this way. 

“You know when—” Kurt got cut off again.

“Dearest, you don’t have to do this?” Blaine felt super awkward. 

Pulling on hand free, Kurt pressed it against Blaine’s lips. Shaking his head, he said, “You probably guessed by now.”

“Guessed what?” The words came out with an edge to them, and inside, Blaine felt as if the anvil had fallen on the coyote. The mind fluttered and he added without thinking, “That you slept with . . . him?”

“If you’re trying to make me sick, you succeeded! Good god, no!’ Kurt’s eyes went wide. He suddenly looked about noticing the people watched them.

Tightening the grip on his husband’s hands, Blaine felt everything going sideways. With a sigh, he sorrowfully admitted. “That was hurtful and dumb.”

A thought abruptly crashed in on Blaine, causing the contents of his stomach to rise in his throat. Emotion sucked the air out of his lungs, making his throat hurt. Irrepressibly pounding in his chest, yelled out through time to where an old man acutely felt those feeling all over again. Kurt’s eyes locked on him as they had that day, but old Blaine felt more. Fear resonated within his darling’s heaving torso as thoughts peppered the brain with questions. What to do? Run? Come clean? Pretend nothing happened? Lie? 

The twins flashed in a senior’s mind, and he saw them from Kurt’s perspective. The emotions reserved for two incredible little people lived in the darling man’s heart surrounded by a fussy afghan named Blaine. The blanket warmed every aspect of Kurt making it the most essential thing in his life. It soothed his anxieties and filled him, Kurt, with such joy. An elderly man always knew this, yet, feeling it as he did now, brought tears to his eyes. Why had not he seen it when his beloved Kurt lived?

The wetness marking wrinkled cheeks made old Blaine want to embrace this new way of feeling his past. With a smile, he searched his mind until three words echoed in his mind. While he did not like them, he knew he had to relive them.

“Sebastian kissed me?” Kurt’s face bunched up.

The words crushed Blaine back into his chair, where he stared at nothing for a long moment. Refusing to release Kurt’s hands, he felt the pulse pounding under Kurt’s skin. Swallowing, Blaine started to say something and then looked away. A couple of people sitting nearby pretended not to be paying attention. 

“Blaine?” Kurt sounded distraught.

Shaking his head, Blaine cracked his neck and breathlessly muttered. “That wasn’t what I expected.”

“Honestly, I didn’t start it.” Kurt’s babbled in a low tone. His eyes went every such way, a sure sign he struggled. “He just came out from around the corner and laid one on me. It . . . well?”

One of Blaine’s eyebrows went up, and his head moved back and forth as if he wanted to say something, but the words would not come out. An old man felt Fate holding a card in the upside down in its fingers—Temperance warned that one’s behaviour might never be reconciled. 

Old eyes blinked and in the darkness behind the lids, and he saw a figure wrapped in a flowing and tattered cloak sitting at a table sipping tea from a beautiful china cup. The head within the cowl moved, and old Blaine’s heart froze. The smiling red eyes of Death gazed into startled hazel while a gnarled finger tapped the card on the table.

The sound of that long and jagged nail tapping on layers of paper rebounded out through time touching Blaine in two different points of their existence. Even though the urge to give into Death’s yearnings consumed him, an aged man’s mind recalled the words a younger man spoke.

“I—” Young Blaine’s voice faded as an odd shiver rolled up his back, leaving him feeling relieved. His eyes fluttered as if he lost his bitter train of thought.

Kurt looked worried. “Blaine?”

Shaking his head, Blaine pulled one of Kurt’s hands closer. Tenderly kissed it and glanced over the knuckles with fear in his eyes. The tinging of a gnarled finger tapping on china disrupted his carrying considerations spinning it toward something serious. The words that came out did not sound anything like those young Blaine intended, “I thought . . . you were going to tell me your . . . test was—”

The misty darkness caught within the folds of a hooded cloak billowed unfavourably because, somehow, the words spoke did not ring true. Recalling the nasty argument might have given Death its prize, but something intervened.

Kurt’s chin quivered, and he tightened his grip on his lover’s fingers. “God’s no.”

Slowly he released his choking hold on his husband’s fingers without letting go, Blaine looked up into those started blue eyes. Feeling stupid, the words which followed did not come out as memory evoked. “Kurt, I don’t know what I would do if—”

“I’m still testing negative.” Kurt bent down, so his head came close to Blaine’s. Their neighbours openly watched, but he did not care. 

Blaine fell into Kurt’s arms, drawing him into a huge hug, and then he gently said, “Kurt the thought of you being . . . well . . . not being is my worst nightmare.”

“Blaine. It isn’t happening?”

“Yet.”

Kurt drew away from the man he adored and pulling a finger under his husband’s eye, wicking the moisture away. He stared at his lover for a moment and then said, “Pick up your coffee and bring the treats.”

Blaine looked confused but did not resist as Kurt rose. Two young men strolled around the corner, and each time Blaine tried to say something, Kurt would shush him. Eventually, a small, treed square with a fountain in the middle came into view. Three men in brightly coloured pants practiced the juggling next to the fountain. Opposite the enthusiastic jugglers, a group of older people from the nearby senior’s home sat at several tables and benches around a large chessboard of black and gray cement. The area had no playground, but many local parents brought their children here. The wrought iron fence surrounding the perimeter and community police post across the street added to the sense of security. 

With his left hand tightly grasping his partner’s right, Kurt tugged Blaine over to a bench beneath a stature of some revolutionary hero. Sitting close together, they sipped their drinks and then started to speak at the same time. Silence and awkward smiles followed and then Kurt lowered his head and indicated his husband should go first. 

Breathing in, Blaine felt an odd softness within his heart. Looking down and then back up, he started to say, “Ok, right, I want to—”

With an uncharacteristic lack of grace, Kurt bluntly cut his husband off. “What the fuck is going on, Blaine?”

“I’m not dumping you for that snake Kurt. Is that what you wanted to hear. I love you, more than life itself.” The words erupted from Blaine’s lips came out precisely as they had near the end of the original argument.

Gray eyebrows pulled together, creating deep crevices in an old man’s forehead. What happened to Kurt’s angry words prior to his comment? 

Kurt should have looked relieved, but he did not.

“Oh my, I screwed this up, didn’t I?” The fluffy eyebrows of a young man came together, but in the present, someone knew he had not made this statement. In reality, his speech inflamed Kurt, who stormed off. The two men would not see one another until later that night and then, things did not heal for several days. 

“Screwed what up.” Kurt’s words seemed more curious than harmful. 

“I wanted to talk about past demons.” Blaine gave his partner a sweet little smirk. 

“Why now? Why after bumping into that . . . asshole?” Kurt's anger stirred again.

“I’m so thick at times.” Young eyes moved back and forth, but old Blaine felt as if two memories meshed. “My darling Kurt, Past Demons is a movie. I was asked—”

Without warning, Kurt struck Blaine in the bicep with considerable force.

“Ouch.” Wheeling back, Blaine’s hand came up to his arm.

“Oh, fuck! I didn’t mean . . . damn it.” Kurt wailed, and his hands went in all directions catching the attention of some of the people in the park. 

Shaking his head, Blaine detected that off-center sensation once more. Indecision altered intention and he pulled Kurt into a hug. With his head resting on his husband’s shoulder, he said, “Kurt, I have to apologize. This didn’t turn out as I planned.”

Pushing his husband away, Kurt glared at him. His quiet tone shuttered with anger. “If this is an example of a well thought out plan . . . well, you nailed it big time.”

“Maybe, I will blame it on Sebastian.” Blaine looked down, shaking his head at his stupid and thoughtless choices. In the back of an aged mind, someone slurping tea. 

Taking his husband’s chin in his left hand, Kurt pulled it up, so they looked at on another. “That’s lame. So, what was it you were trying to pull off?”

“Okay,” Blaine quickly kissed his husband more to sooth himself than anything else. “How would you like an all-expenses-paid trip to Australia? First-class and five-star all the way.”

Brow furrowed, Kurt glared at his husband, “You got me to spill my guts for this?”

Blaine sighed. “No . . . but your admission was charming.”

Kurt hit his husband again, but this time a little more playfully. He then kissed him so hard all tension melted away. 

Pulling away, Blaine whispered, “Wow.”

Pushing his lips out, making a hard face, Kurt pointed an accusing finger at his husband. “Not so fast, bucko. You’re not out of this yet. So out with it?”

“Ang Lee called me this afternoon.”

“Who? Wait? Ang Lee? How did he hear about you?”

“Do you remember the Rainbow Room?”

“Very fondly.”

“One of June’s guest filmed us on his cell phone. He showed it to someone who showed to someone who showed it to Ang Lee. Anyhow, they are going to shoot the movie in Australia and New Zealand. He wants to fly me to Sydney to discuss writing the movie score.”

“No, shit!” Kurt wobbled on the edge of the bench.

“Yes, shit!” Blaine smiled uncontrollably. “You and the kids get to come along.”

Squealing, Kurt threw his arms about Blaine pushing him back onto the wooden bench. Lips met even as a nearby woman made a disgusting sound as she pulled her child away. Suddenly the moment ended, and Kurt pulled away with a stern look. Then, out of the blue, he started to laugh.

“What?” Blaine asked in all innocence.

Kurt hesitated. “I thought you wanted to dredge up the skeletons in the closet.”

Shaking his head, Blaine leaned his head against his husband. “The sight of a snake really does scramble that beautiful mind.”

Frowning, Kurt rolled his eyes and laid a hand on his Blaine’s thigh and gently squeezed.

Drawing his husband into a light hug, Blaine whispered, “Oh, my lovely, lovely man. I don’t care about the ghouls. All I care about is you and our children.”

With his head resting on Blaine’s shoulder, Kurt muttered, “Maybe it is a good thing we did some spring cleaning?”

Blaine purred, “Innocent little, you and skeletons?”

“Don’t give me that, my jaded Warbler.” Kurt accused with a frisky dark look. 

“Do you really want to go there?” Mischief twinkled in Blaine’s eyes.

Opening his mouth, Kurt paused. “Ah . . . maybe not.”

A spirited look brightened Blaine’s face, and he devilishly asked, “So what’s this about Sebastian being a good kisser.”


	23. Outback

A pair of underwear flew across the room, striking Blaine on the side of the head. With a huff, he looked down with disappointment. Drawing in a shaky breath, he bent down to pick them up off the floor. For a second, he considered throwing it back, and then he simply said, “That was childish.”

“Childish!” The single word rose in volume and pitch. Kurt stood out on the little balcony with a towel wrapped around him, leaning on the railing with water dripping from his hair. Thick, lush trees grew up all around him with the ocean and a sandy beach seen through a cultivated open space. Even though the property had houses on either side, they could not be seen. 

“Throwing underwear is childish.” Blaine shot back as he folded the garment before putting it down on the dresser.

“Wet underwear would be childish.”

“Why is this happening?”

“As if you paid attention enough to know.”

“Will you stop that?”

Spinning around, Blaine’s shrunk back when hard blue eyes glared at him. Clothes lay all around, on the floor, bed and chair. Neither of them said a word. 

“Honestly, Kurt?” Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose. With a headache building behind his eyes, he started to pick up the articles of clothing.

“For heaven's sake, Blaine,” Kurt took one heavy step toward the balcony door and then placed a hand on either frame. “You don’t have to treat me like some dainty porcelain doll. I survived Sylvester, for Christ’s sake.”

“And did you learn anything?” A puff of air escaped Blaine’s lips. Feeling suddenly stupid, he spun around to face the bedroom door. The throbbing temples mirrored that of his heart as he rolled the underwear in his hand. 

Kurt rolled his eyes and firmly stated, “Lots and you're just not listening.”

“Tell me then.” Blaine’s voice has a sharp edge to it. 

Kurt barked back, “I did!”

“Screaming like a banshee is not telling.” Blaine’s head drooped, and then he flopped down onto the bed.

Pursing his lips, Kurt tried to hold it all in, the words he spoke came out with an unintended harshness, “I’m not a banshee.”

“Funny you—” Knowing he pushed it further into the abyss, Blaine clamped his mouth shut. 

Taking the step into the room, Kurt demanded, “Grow a pair and spit it out! You think I’m a wuss.”

Blaine rubbed the back of his neck and up into his mass of curls. Rolling his shoulders, he glanced up at the ceiling, feeling the adrenaline drain from his body, leaving him feeling defeated. Tugging on the blanket folded at the end of the bed, Blaine pulled it up over his head. With some measure of difficulty, he tried to understand why Kurt got so upset, and in all honesty, he did not know. 

The day started wonderfully with his legs in the air and Kurt’s throbbing manhood impaled inside him. Playful man on top maintained a titillating rhythm as he leaned in kissing his husband with each deep thrust. Ever since the press found other want-to-be celebrities to fry, their intimacy grew in steady leaps and bounds. For the first time in months, it felt like the sex of their teenage years. The enthusiasm of his husband sent Blaine to that place where the physicality of the union slid into a beautiful place controlled by lustful emotion. The sensation of his husband caressing the heavenly spot inside cast weeks of uncertainty out the window. With the voice in the back of his head, giving warning winter had not wholly given away to spring just yet, Blaine loved every divine inch pressed into him. 

Rolling his head under the fabric, Blaine heard Kurt huffing and muttering under his breath. What happened? Everything went well until since leaving New York even if the flights turned out too long and the first leg overly emotional. Stopping in Lima for a couple of days, they left the children with the grandparents even though they could have taken them and jetted off to Las Angeles. Surprisingly, Kurt took the window seat and handled the landing on the west coast with little more than a whimper. Flying over the bright blue Pacific, Blaine noted his husband slowly unravelling. He soothed Kurt by showing him videos of the children. They missed their kids, but for some reason, leaving them behind hit Kurt hard. 

Sleep took them even though the design of the first-class pods made it impossible to hold hands. For some reason, Blaine knew his husband would have preferred to snuggle. Since meeting Sebastian, he felt odd, but in the right way. In the beginning, it worried him, and over the passage of the day, it became part of him. Maybe the last few months made him needier than usual. Struggling to understand why he felt this way came down to accepting sensations of somehow finding greater clarity when it came to Kurt's needs. It might have something to do with the fact they—well, Blaine did not know.

A car and driver greeted them after customs to take them to their hotel and their twentieth-floor hotel suite balcony, looking out at the Sydney Opera House and the arching span of the harbour bridge. Beautifully appointed within a contemporary modern way, the bottle of Champagne sat on the coffee table with a card from Ang Lee as a welcome. Tired, but excited, they went out to explore. Self-conscious of the Australia saying ‘where men are men,’ they hesitated to hold hands until they spotted an older lesbian couple coming out of a high-end store. In an instant, Blaine's right hand found Kurt’s left connecting the men within a blissful bubble. 

Returning to the hotel a couple of hours later, they skyped with Jesse to catch up on their production and how the understudies did. Their senior director, as Kurt called him, reported no issues other than a slightly diminished crowd. Blaine wanted to hear what the critics had said about their understudies, but Jesse had little to report. A tired Rachel interrupted, and they chitchatted for a while before Kurt tried to connect with his father. Leaving a typed message and an emoji happy face, two worn husbands, fell into bed eve though sun remained high on the horizon. Blissfully coiled up in each other arms, a bomb going off in the room would not have wakened them up.

After a lazy breakfast, the car arrived to take them sightseeing for the morning before Blaine’s afternoon meeting with the producers. Kurt did not need to go, but he wanted to see the behind the scenes events for himself. The Ang did not mind and even asked Kurt’s opinion, every so often, which he preened over. While Ang had not seen their Broadway production, the two other producers attended when they journeyed to New York to seal the deal for their lead actress. Five days later, Ang phoned Blaine from New Zealand to offer him the role of music composer. He explained that his co-producers saw his production and noted Blaine’s had credited concerning the music adaption. With Kurt away, taking the twins to daycare, they went to Skype and Blaine interviewed while he played for an.

An impressed Ang’s offer an agreement contingent on what the co-producers, music director and a lawyer had to say. Thus, Blaine found himself seated behind the piano in the corner of the private lounge in far off Sydney with a beaming Kurt at his side. Rolling off some of his favourites, he sang a couple of songs asking Kurt to join him for one. Aware of the movie took place in the early eighteen hundreds, Blaine then rattled off a tune appropriate to a scene described to him off the top of his head. The producer and music director then chatted quietly amongst themselves and then Ang said he would like Blaine to join the team. A stalwart Kurt overrode Blaine's giddiness, and to their surprise, Ang laughed. Everyone looked at their watches calculating the time difference and then Blaine called New York. Roger expected the call, but it got late where he lived. The teleconference lasted for an hour settling on a payment that shocked two young men with its generosity. In the end, Ang instructed his lawyer to send the contract to New York. Roger agreed to look over it over and contact the production’s lawyer about the same time tomorrow. 

With everything agreed to in principle, Ang and his co-producers did not want to move on until the heard back from the lawyers. Instead, they sat back talking about the similarities between movie and stage production, and what tomorrow might bring. With the final discussion waiting on the word of the lawyers, Blaine and Kurt had some free time on their hands. 

That they dined with the Ang one of Sydney’s finest restaurants, followed by a walk along the waterfront and a few drinks at a swanky waterfront bar. Oscar-winning director Ang Lee turned to be a down to earth person as they talked about personal matters without getting into details. He marvelled at the manner of their wedding, telling them it would make a good plot for a movie or television show. They talked about family and music. 

Over the two days, Kurt and Blaine enjoyed the sights of Sydney, with Blaine talked to Roger about the negotiations with Ang and the lawyers. The men met for lunch on the waterfront and talked about missing their children. Kurt showed his husband, the cute little stuffed koalas he bought and mentioned a few places he wanted to go with Blaine. By mid-morning on Wednesday, the lawyers settled on the final wording and presented it to Blaine and Kurt to look over. The final payment shocked both of them because it would knock off half their future mortgage in one swoop with a little cash to spare. Just before departing, they looked at several condominiums with Carole and signed on the dotted line. They would be moving five weeks after getting home. 

After signing, the business started in earnest. Two young men ravelled in the high level, inner workings, of the large movie production. As the afternoon dragged on, Blaine had little to add to the discussions, and Kurt proved an enchanting distraction. Then they broke out into teams, and Blaine worked with the sound director going over the script speaking about how the music should go. Sitting at the piano, Blaine whipped up a few examples on the spot, pleasing the music director and the head producer. With considerable latitude to create, Blaine could work from home on the score and lyrics reporting in once a week on a secure network. During shooting, they did not need his presence, but afterward, he would need to review scenes to ensure the music worked. The flexibility of the contract made him happy because it meant he would not be completely tied down. To give him time, the kids would remain in daycare and Kurt would have to take up the slack the theatre. It also meant he understudies would get a fair amount of stage time and if the musical proved it would endure, they could bring in other stars to take on the primary rolls 

Late Thursday afternoon Ang invited the couple to join them at a rented house on the Gold Coast south of Brisbane for an extended weekend. The house rested at the end of a private driveway surrounded by a massive and lush garden with a pond and a fountain. Fruit trees in the back yard provided produce for a healthy breakfast catered by the household staff. High hedges hid the tennis court, and a large swimming pool sparkled in the sun a few steps from the patio doors. The room Blaine and Kurt shared, looked over the distant street from the front of the house, through the trees to the beach and the ocean. As large as their existing apartment, their living room could fit into the bathroom. 

Intended to be a working weekend with loads of wine, food, and sitting about the pool talking shop, the boys enjoyed the company. On Saturday, the location scout called from New Zealand, and a lengthy discussion erupted, leaving the couple with time on their hands. The couple retreated to one of the outdoor lounges to speak about their future and what this opportunity represented. Kurt insisted Blaine do his best to make this project work, and Blaine wholeheartedly agreed. However, Blaine knew something felt off. The happiness he saw on Kurt’s face masked the pain on the inside. Since Kurt spoke on the McKinley stage, Kurt had many ups and downs. Sometimes he would cling to Blaine as if his life depended on it, and then other nights they would sleep apart on their sides. The doctor warned them this could happen, and for Blaine, Kurt took it all in stride as best he could. Whatever Kurt needed, Blaine would give it with all the tenderness and love he could muster.

At some point, Blaine suggested the go down to the beach because, deep down and in, that odd way, he knew of the thoughts dancing about in Kurt's mind. Doubling the sunscreen coating his delicate skin, and with a mall cooler in hand, they trekked down the driveway to the beach a few hundred yards away. The treed path leading between two equally large houses led to a white sand beach that burnt underfoot with colossal shade trees all along the edge. Kurt cooed at the prospect of shade and Blaine just smiled. With his left hand in Blaine’s right, they strolled along until they found a secluded spot. 

After a while, even Blaine found the sun too hot lying directly under the blasting yellow ball. Sprawled out next to Kurt in the shade, he felt less like a lobster. His handsome husband sported the best tan he could, well freckles, but it made him look so incredibly sexy. He loved this look, but he adored the perfection of his white skin far more. On those stairs, so long ago, those magnificent blue eyes caught his attention because they seemed to burst from a frame of shimmering white skin. The sight struck his heart, and, even during the rough parts, never left him.

“This could be the life?” Blaine muttered as he glanced up at his husband with a fond smile.

Looking over the top of the magazine, Kurt tipped his sunglasses down his nose to see better. Slowly his eyes raked Blaine’s body in his European bathing suit, and he licked his lips. In a sultry tone, he replied, “With this view, life will always be great.”

Blushing, Blaine nudged Kurt’s leg and moaned, “Oh, yeah.”

“If this movie goes somewhere, we could be all set. But, right now, it will go a long way to paying down the mortgage we just signed.”

“That’s a relief.”

“The play’s doing well, so I guess we need to start thinking of our next steps.”

“This is the next step. Then you will be able to play all you want with Tom when I’m not hunched over the piano?”

“Really?” Kurt put his magazine down and turned to face his grinning husband. “He would not be your understudy if he could not sing and dance like a diva. However, I have said this before. I like the original model.”

“Ah, you’re so sweet.” Blaine reached up and lightly stroke Kurt’s cheek.

“Hey, look, we got us some shellas!” someone yelled from down the beach.

Startled, Blaine turned to see three older teenagers stomping through the sand a dozen yards away. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he started to run the mantra—leave us alone—in his head. At the same time, his eyes went to his husband, who glanced at the teens with hooded eyed. The twitch of a muscle next to his eye gave a warning. 

All three of the older teens wore long, baggy basketball type shorts in different and wild colours. The tallest one brushed his long, dark hair away from the side of his face, giving Blaine and Kurt a puzzled look. He wore a yellow tank top with a logo of some band on it and carried a plastic bag with a potato chip bag sticking out of it. The sun glistened on the heavily tanned skin of his shirtless friends, strolling along beside him. A teen, who stood no taller than Blaine with a daddy belly held onto a bag cloth bag which clinked of glass with movement. Their third wheel, a medium-sized, solidly built young man holding an open bottle of beer in his right hand, gazed over the rim of his sunglasses. Pointing at the couple on the blanket stretched on the sand, his mouth curled up in a rueful grin. The pudgy fellow said something and the other two laughed. 

If not for the menacing words and intent in their gate, Blaine would not have given them a second look. Watching through his lashes, he hoped their trajectory would have taken them past the couple by a safe margin. As luck had it, paunchy one veered their way, and the two others followed. 

Quickly looking about, he spotted a mother and her children playing in the surf some distance away, a couple of older men chatted with each other down the beach and about a half dozen surfers. Following Blaine’s gaze, Kurt whispered, “I don’t like the look of this.”

“Just remain calm. Maybe they’ll just pass by,” Blaine wished, even though it did not look that way. Finger found his phone and looking down without moving his head too much, Blaine turned swiped up and activated the video camera.

The short teen with the belly and a glassy look in his eyes had trouble walking in a straight line on the shifting sand. Kicking up granules under his bare feet, he pointed at Kurt, yelling, “God, that’s white!”

“It's an albino.” The shorter accentuated the last word.

The three of them laughed and then the medium height, solidly built teen, let the bag slip to his hand. Falling to the sand with a loud rattle of glass. Holding his open bottle to his mouth, the fellow took a swig, and he tossed the container to Blaine right where it struck a tree and shattered. Slapping his the flat of his hand on his taller man’s back, he announced, “I haven’t seen anything this white since the last time I wiped my arse.”

“You missed some,” the shorter teen moved to bend down and picked up the bottle from the sand. Twisting off the lid, he flicked the metal cap toward Blaine and Kurt before taking a draft. 

“Maybe this will help add some colour.” The stocky man kicked sand at the couple on the blanket from a distance of three yards while the other two giggled. 

Clenching his fists, Blaine breathed out in an exercise learned years ago came into play. Not much different than his high school bullying, he found deeply inhaling helped calm himself and his temper. Violence begot violence, thus Kurt and Blaine would typically turn the other cheek. Slushies in the face, dumpsters, bashed into lockers, tripped, spat on, called names, Blaine experienced all of it. He also knew how Burt constantly told Kurt no one picks on the Hummels. The critical part of that conversation resonated about the statement—a hill worth dying on?

The lovers exchanged a quick look knowing the hill looked tiny, and with luck, the inebriated youths would remember the bottles heating in the sand and move on. Blaine sat up when he realized fate worked against them as the trio closed the gap. The bulky instigator continued to kick the sand and changed his direction, creating a gap between himself and his friends. 

Pulling himself up, Kurt slid along the blanket toward the sand and the bag with his phone in it. Watching the teens, his hand dug into the opening, and when he grasped, he pulled it out, several Kleenex came out along with his mobile device. 

Jumping about as if the motions would be less comical or threatening, the one with the beer belly chirped, “Toilet paper’s going to cry.”

The tall one chuckled, and the medium-sized teen made a pouty face while rubbing an under an eye. He said to his shorter buddy, “You think the little one is the leftover swirling in the water?”

More laughter followed by some bravado and sand kicking. It fell well short of the target even though the fine dust carried on the wind and into the couple’s faces. Shading his eyes with his hand, he glanced Kurt when he heard his lover’s voice rise to object.

“Excuse me, we’re—" Kurt’s voice while outwardly neutral had an edge of warning to it Blaine recognized. 

“Excuse me?” Kurt indignantly responded as he shaded his eyes with his hands.

“Look here, we have a bloody fucking yank,” the chubbier of the three mocked with a mischievous smile.

The tallest teen circled to the left with a puzzled look on his face. “What do you call them in yankiville . . . cigarettes?”

“Faggots . . . that’s what they call these fems, faggots.” The bulky one jumped up high-fiving the taller fellow. “We have us a bunch of blooming yank arse bandits.”

“The fuckers even have fuck’s rings,” the shorter one spat at Kurt. “These shitty little queers are fuck’n married.”

The three of them laughed and then the middle height teen yelled, “Disgusting!”

The shorter beach bum stepped from side to side, kicking sand over the couple. Both Blaine and Kurt climbed to his feet as he tried to keep his anger in check. A glance at Kurt told his Blaine events annoyed his husband, but he had not reached the tipping point yet. On the other hand. Blaine’s blood boiled. Neither of them needed this, especially his darling Kurt how had endured enough. 

The taller guy pushed the much shorter Blaine back, and his feet caught the blanket. On instinct, a leg instantly shot back, preventing him from toppling into Kurt, who, in turn, leaped onto the warm sand. The teen of solidly built teen thrust a hand into Kurt’s shoulder shoving him. In that instant, Kurt swung at the teen, barely missing his head. The taller teen kicked the feet out from under Kurt sending him face-first into the sand. 

The three teens howled in laughter as two of them kicked sand onto Kurt. Stepping between his lover and the sand kickers, Blaine found himself elbowed out of the way. Barely maintaining his balance, Blaine’s boxing training took over as he rebounded and bounced up onto his feet. Taking a stance as if the punching bag hung in front of him with his fists raised, the teens stopped laughing. For a moment, they looked stunned, and then they spread out.

“The little gob smacker wants to fight,” the tall teen looked angry and then took a swing at Blaine, who quickly ducked away.

The stocky teen suddenly rushed Kurt, who backed up with his arms raised and fists balled up. The tall aggressor clumsily lunged with a swing of the arm and Kurt danced back as if on stage. Losing his footing, he fell backward on his butt. The tall teen laughed and kicked more sand and leaped at Kurt. Blaine threw his body into the taller teen knocking both of them to the sands. Strong arms grappled him, and two the males started to roll. The stocky teen moved to grab Blaine and stumbled when a water bottle hit him in the side of the head. The shortest teen hesitated and then charged Kurt hit him with the other water bottle. Stumbling, he took a swing at Kurt missing by a wide margin. 

“That’s enough or that!” a deep, gruff and heavily accented voice called from the trees off to the left.

The taller teen, who prepared to rush Blaine, did not care until one of his buddies grabbed him by the arm. Rage lashed his pimply face, and then he suddenly straightened up at the sight of two police officers jogging toward them. 

Rubbing his hands down his face, Blaine drew in a long, deep breath with an aching heart. Fourty five minutes ago, they enjoyed themselves on the beach, and now, Blaine did not know what happened. The two older men just down the beach intervened in the growing discussion with the two Americans and the tipsy teens. The two supported Blaine and Kurt’s version of events and accompanied by the recording, and the officers escorted the offending youth from the sand, taking the bag of beer with them. 

Blaine and Kurt thanked the two gentlemen, and the four chatted for a few minutes. Shortly after they left, Kurt turned and glowered at Blaine before making some absurd accusations. Blaine had no opportunity of rebuttal because Kurt ran off toward the house. Grabbing their stuff, Blaine tore after him, and when he got back to their room, Kurt stood in the shower letting the water wash over him. 

Pressing his head into the mattress, Blaine found the gloom under the blanket oddly relieving. The mind raced from here to there, trying to understand those strange sensations from his husband. Arguing got them nowhere, and he hated it. If everything that had happened over the past few months had taught him anything, it revolved around learning to control his emotions. Deep inside, he knew Kurt’s rage stemmed not from the altercation on the beach, but something closer to his soul. How did he not know?

The bed moved as if someone crawled onto it and then long fingers coiled around the blanket and tugged. Closing his eyes, Blaine drew in a silent and hard breath, knowing all too well it could be only one person. 

“Now who’s being the baby?” Kurt muttered with a sharpness to his voice.

Growling under his breath, Blaine flung the blanket away, and sorrowful hazel met angry gray-blue.


	24. Visitors

As confusing as it felt, an older adult found comfort in the sense that some aspect of Kurt surrounded him. Conversations he should not know echoed in his mind taking him back to the happiness of a hug he did not actually take part in. Pressed against a firm body, the man Kurt embraced felt a little thick about the middle even though the firmness of his body remained. The long ponytail looked familiar, but the scruffy, half-grown goatee looked out of place. The man never could grow a beard and the sight amused Kurt. The scar cutting a diagonal path down his cheek would make for a delightful dinner conversation.

“Sam!” Young Blaine called out as he came down the hall. Bright colours coated his hand, wrists and the apron he worn over a colourful shirt and tan slacks. The placement of the elevators created a five-foot by a nine-foot tiled entry, which gave way to the hardwood floors of the hallway. A large mirror hung on the wall opposite the front door reflecting the light from above at the polished granite tiles. 

“Hey, Warbler, boy?” Sam exclaimed. A huge smile spread his lips as he strode across the tile floor and enfolding his friend in a warm embrace. 

“You should have called to tell us you would be early. I’m a mess.” Blaine held his arms out as straight, leaning his body into his best friend.

Letting Blaine go, Sam said, “Christ, it’s good to see you.”

Kurt cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder. 

“Oh, right.” Sam looked suddenly embarrassed. “Children.”

Blaine nodded and then peered over Sam’s shoulder into the corridor. A demur, slender Chinese woman in her mid-twenties, stood patiently just outside the threshold. The unbuttoned full-length light brown coat she wore provided a hint of the dark blue dress beneath. Long, straight, jet black hair fell over her shoulders down her back and the right side of her chest. A long golden chain fell into her cleavage, and long drop earrings dangled on each side. She stood there placidly as she looked the hosts up and down without moving her head. Bright red lips and large dark eyes rounded about a gorgeous look.

“Sam, stop hogging the door and allow your date to come in,” Blaine instructed as he pulled back into the entry. 

Sam glanced at the young woman and held his hand out to her. With a smile, he stated, “Blaine, Kurt, this is Liu Chin.”

“Welcome to our home Liu Chin,” Blaine smiled even though they had not expected Sam to bring a date. “Please, pardon me if I don’t shake your hand. I’m helping our children with a project.”

“Please call me Liu.” Her low, soft words come out in perfect English with a hint of an accent. “Sorry, we’re early. Sam wanted to surprise you.”

“Surprise!” Sam bobbed his head back and forth.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Kurt smiled and offered his hand to the stunning lady. 

“The pleasure is mine, gentlemen.” The beautiful woman smiled. “Sam has told me of both of you.”

Laying a hand on Kurt’s as if she expected him to kiss it, Liu Chin beamed. Her expression, however, changed ever so slightly when Kurt shook it. 

“Please come in and make yourselves comfortable.” Blaine made a gestured and as he stepped back from the door. “If you would excuse me, I should see what new mess the kids have made and then clean up.”

Kurt watched his husband depart and then said to his guests, “Can I take your coats?”

Sam helped his girlfriend remove her coat, revealing a form-fitting dress that left a little to the imagination. She smiled at her boyfriend as the sleeves pulled away. When Sam handed the long coat to Kurt, she took her Sam’s hand. 

Suddenly she turned and said to Kurt, “Oh, one moment, I need something from a pocket.”

Folding the coat over his arm, Kurt offered it to her. Digging into the side pocket, she positioned herself in such a manner so that the man holding the coat received a good look at her ample cleavage. Extracting a small cloth bag, she folded it up into her palm.

Paying scant attention to his girlfriend, Sam called down the hall, “When do we get to see the little darlings, Blaine.”

“Might be a few minutes.” Blaine’s voice drifted down the hall, mixed with the chattering of childish tones. “I need to clean them up,”

“Where did the two of you meet?” Kurt asked the couple as he hung their jackets up in a nearby closet. 

Sam grinned, and Lui replied, “We meet at a concert.”

“Sam bumped into me when the crowd surged toward the stage,” Liu barely showed emotion when she spoke.

“He has always been the Prince Charming type,” Kurt felt ill-at-ease by the way she looked at him. 

Liu wrapped her arm about Sam as she scanned the vista offered to her. 

“How goes the New Directions?” Kurt slid the closet door shut and turned.

“They're doing well. The competition was stiffer than I expected. It might be time to shake things up a bit.” Sam glanced down the hall, where one of the kids made a loud noise. 

“After winning three nationals in a row, I would hope so.”

“And you?”

“Children turn things over enough to make life more than interesting.” Kurt gestured toward the living room. “Let’s not just stand here. Come in and make yourself at home.” 

“I’ve been waiting to see your new digs.” Sam bobbed his head back and forth with a small grin on his face. “Blaine sent me pictures of nothing but bare walls.”

Kurt indicated they should step to the left. 

Sam nodded and then offered Liu his arm before stepping into the short hall leading to the living room. The sixth-floor suite faced a quiet street and a green space at the end of the block. Two ten-foot-tall, narrow brick arched windows formed a corner where the end wall jutted five feet out from the suite next door. Six equally spaced ten-foot-tall, large arched windows spanned the thirty-foot length of the outer wall of the fifteen-foot-wide room. Bright halogen lights played off the keys of a gleaming black, baby grand piano facing the corner window. Illuminated from above, a low credenza covered in sheet music butted up against brick behind the piano stool. 

Centered in the window, a dark tan couch big enough to seat four faced a gas fireplace with a large rectangular mirror over it. Two chocolate brown, high backed chairs rested at right angles three feet from the corners of the couch. The intricate creams, blues and reds of a classically styled rug popped beneath the low, oval glass coffee table bringing the seating area together. Bright radiance highlighted the slender floor to ceiling impressionistic paintings hanging on either side of the fireplace. Unpacked boxes piled four long and three high cluttered the space between the credenza and one of the canvases waiting for the purchase of bookshelves. 

The hardwood floors from the living room extended through a five-foot-wide arch into the dining room with an antique-styled table set for five. A corresponding curving span provided access to the tiled kitchen on the other side of the brick wall accented with three dark green panels. Fifteen feet wide and sixteen feet deep, the dining area and the kitchen extended out from the building, forming a large bay. Against the wall close to the arching windows, sat a foldable table laid out with more durable tableware for the twins. A highchair rested at one corner of the larger table for the baby yet to arrive. 

Beyond the second arch, the ten-foot-wide kitchen filled the rest of the bay. Ceiling height, smoke glass cabinets lined the walls across from each other, leaving the sink open to the curving windows. A tall, slender wine cooler stood next to a dishwasher opposite a black double fridge separated by a narrow cabinet from the black stove. Lights set under the cabinets twinkled off the silver flecks in the dark granite countertops and the clear coloured glass tiles on the wall. The double smoked glass doors of the floor to ceiling pantry filled the space between the fridge and the wall splitting the kitchen from the hall. A single French styled glass door set into a smooth plaster, tan coloured wall directly opposite the sink, provided access to the corridor to the other side of the condominium. 

The smooth brown-gold painted walls of the corridor to the right of the entry had five doors set in it. Thirteen feet from the kitchen access, a wooden door opened into the children’s room. Twelve feet wide and twenty feet wide, the previous owners made two smaller rooms one. The bare brick outside wall offset the colourfully painted plaster walls on three sides. Each child had a single bed pressed lengthwise against an end wall. Directly behind the headboard, a floor to ceiling cabinet blocking part of the window acted as a closet. A small rectangular table occupied the space in front of the window, leaving a path to reach the bathroom cabinet. Two chests for toy storage rested against the wall on either side of the door, and sizeable functional area rug hid the hardwood floor. 

The thresholds on the other side of the hall opened into two rooms. One led to the laundry room, storage area and the other to the bathroom with a clawed foot tub. Brightly painted and appointed, neither of these rooms received outside brightness.

The glass door with a sheer drape inset in the wall at the end of the hall provided access to the couple’s private sanctuary. Almost the size of the dining room and kitchen combined, doors led to a sizable walk-in closet and a well-appointed on suite. Furnished with items from their apartment, the shelves from their old living room pressed against the brick beside a chipped dresser. Blaine wanted to buy a new king-sized suite, but they decided to spend the money on their children first and themselves second.

Dating back to nineteen-ten, at the time, the former hotel towered above everything else in the neighbourhood. Converted into an apartment building during the depression, developers acquired it in the nineties. Gutting the structure, they restored it to its original grandeur with a modern twist. Facilities included limited and costly off-street parking, a lush rooftop garden with a large communal hot tub and a fitness room with a sauna. Three years ago, the previous owners updated the suite to its contemporary look. 

“It’s really you and Blaine.” Given his friend a wink, Sam stepped into the openness of the living room with Lui at his side. 

Lui glanced about and softly stated, “It’s lovely.”

“Please forgive the boxes. We were going to move those before you got here.” Kurt felt embarrassed.

“No problem, it gives the place that just bought look.” Sam went to the window and looked out. “And, I see Blaine gets his trees.”

“Yeah, he does.” Kurt walked behind their guests. “We moved in two weeks ago, and you’re the first people to see it.”

“You could move back to Lima. For the price of this place, you could buy a mansion.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Yeah, you’d miss all this concrete.”

“We love the city.”

“You always did, but Blaine?” Sam commented as he looked back at his stunning girlfriend, who carefully studied the painting next to the fireplace. “Still, I like what you’ve done with the place. Early sparseness.”

“Ha, ha. We’ll get there,” Kurt stood close to the arch to the dining room. “Rachel and Jesse are supposed to be here at the top of the hour.”

“She pregnant again, right?” 

“Six months and a boy.”

“Good for them. I bet Jesse’s happy.”

“I don’t think he cares either way. He’s just happy.”

Slowly turning, Liu smiled at Kurt. “May I use your washroom?”

“It’s the second door on the right,” Kurt pointed down the hall.

“Thank you,” Liu grinned at her host. 

Watching his girlfriend saunter past, Sam strolled over to the piano. “Someone’s busy?”

“Blaine’s on his second draft of the movie score.”

“He was so excited when he told me. You guys are moving up.”

“We haven’t made it yet, Sam. This place put us back big time. Even with three plays on the go, we’re barely above water. If it had not been for the movie and our parents, we would be renting for the rest of our lives.”

“You’re both talented. You’ll make it,” Sam spun around and patted his friend on the shoulder. “Maybe I’ll build you some shelves while I am here.”

Smiling, Kurt stepped into the dining area on his way to the kitchen. He called back, “You don’t have to do that. Blaine and I have not quite figured out what we want yet.”

Instantly, Sam shot back. “He’s not moving out, again, is he?”

Kurt’s brow pushed together, and then he smiled. “You’re not be getting a new roomie. We’re very happy.”

Sam’s snooping brought him close to the dining room. Sticking his head through the arch, he said, “I think there a football game in a couple of days.”

“I’m sure Blaine would want to go.” Kurt turned toward the dining room and smiled at Sam. “Would you like red or white?”

“Liu prefers white, and I’ll have some of that expensive scotch your father gave you,” Sam suggested as he turned on the spot taking everything in. He paused at the paintings and his brows furrowed. “Interesting is about all I can say.”

Kurt ignored the comments about the painting. “You're in town for a week?”

“Yeah. Liu wanted to see the big city. She’s from Nebraska.”

“You seem happy?”

“I am. Liu’s great.”

“And work doesn’t get in the way?”

“Sometimes, but I find teaching challenging. These new kids are sharp. You know some of them have figured out how to use their cell phone ringtones to produce the music.”

“I hope the band members are not upset,” Kurt spoke from the kitchen, where he checked on the roast and the other things that still needed cooking before pouring the drinks. Every so often, Kurt could hear the muffled sound of squealing kids from down the hall.

Sam poked his head in the kitchen. “I must be getting old.” 

“Don’t try to relive your glory days.” Kurt chuckled, recalling how Schuester tried. 

Sam laughed. “I learned a lot from our days in the limelight. Besides, today’s students are more demanding?”

“I can’t wait to face those challenges with the twins.” Kurt pulled the cover off the roast so it could brown. Placing the lid on the sink, he took a couple of pots, placing them on the stove. “I want to watch them learn to play music.”

Sam peered at the piano and said, “You going to teach them a real instrument?”

“Blaine’s plays the guitar, and I can play the piano, but not as well as him. He’s rather good.”

“Can I tinker?” Sam gave Kurt a playful look as if he wanted to say something.

“Just don’t mess up Blaine’s papers,” Kurt warned.

“I’ll be careful.” Sam sat at the piano, tinkled the keys for and then country music drifted through the suite.

Kurt liked Sam’s smooth voice, but country? Shaking his head, he uncorked the wine and reached for a wineglass.

“Can I be of any help?” Lui leaned against the door frame as her dark eyes looked up and down. 

“Liu’s a wizard in the kitchen,” Sam called from the living room. From where he sat, he could see down the hall and see a sliver of the kitchen.

“If you sprinkle a little ginger over the roast, it will cook while it rests,” Liu suggested as she walked into the kitchen. 

Nodding, Kurt reached up and opened a cabinet, searching through the bottles of spices. “Light or heavy.”

“Depends on your palate. I prefer it hot.” Liu stepped closer to Kurt. One foot carefully placed in front of another, a hand moved across the edge of the speckled countertop. A finger brushed against the cork, and it fell onto the floor where it bounced. Making an effort to pick it up, she struggled with her width of his slinky dress and the cork rolled toward the sink.

Stooping down, Kurt scooped the cork into his hand, and sudden anxiety gripped him. His pulse began to race, and he felt the heat flush up into his cheeks. Liu stood so close he could smell her strawberry lipstick, and Kurt winced. His mind abruptly travelled to a muddy time when lawyers argued over witnesses and evidence draining his strength. Drawing in a quick breath to settle himself, Kurt straightened up and steeled his nerves.

Elsewhere, Blaine looked from the smart dress he pulled over Katherine’s head and toward the wall shared with the kitchen. Words he should not have heard echoed in his head.

“Kurt?” Liu licked her lips.

Abruptly pulling back, Kurt’s hand caught a spoon sitting in a small bowl of cream sauce. Flipping in the air, Kurt fumbled it against his silk skirt before the utensil it clattered to the counter. Controlling his panic, in desperation, he called out, “Sam, can you come in here and make the drinks, Blaine just called me.”

Surprised by Kurt’s reaction, Liu stepped back and then reached for a cloth offering it to Kurt. She gave her host a speculative gaze and then started to laugh. The sound irritated Kurt, and then he noted bobbing blond ponytail and without saying anything made his escape. He slipped around the corner into the hall, hearing surprised voices behind him. 

Blaine twitched and glanced into the hall just as Kurt quickly passed. His chest tightened, and he felt water rimming his eyes. Unexpected emotion welled up from an unfamiliar place when he heard a door close with a soft click. 

Pursing his lips, Blaine bent down and pulled his two adorable kids to him. “Do you remember uncle Sam?”

The two glanced at each other. Kate said, “He has long hair.”

“It’s long, and you can pull on it.” Blaine fiddled with the edges of her dress. “He’s out in the living room. Why don’t you go out and greet him?”

The twins gave themselves a sideways glance and then tore off around the corner. Raised tones went with them and then Blaine heard Sam’s voice call out with surprise. The kids chatted and then a few seconds later, a song resonated from Sam’s soothing voice. 

Blaine had to smile even if the concern for his husband rose in his throat like bile. Staring at the carpet, he drew in a deep breath and stood. Walking into the hall, Blaine paused and glanced toward the living room where Lui chatted with the kids. Heat rose in his cheeks, and he felt that tug in the opposite direction. Taking the short stroll to their bedroom, Blaine found Kurt stripping off his shirt. Standing there watching, he noticed the stress lines on his husband’s forehead and rolled his lips. 

Walking up behind his husband, he wrapped his arms about his husband’s warm body. In response, Kurt leaned, not his husband and folded his arms about those surrounding him. In a quiet voice, Blaine asked, “What happened?”

Embarrassed, Kurt pulled himself free and dropped his shirt on the floor and muttered, “I . . . I had a flashback.”

Laying a hand on Kurt’s naked chest, Blaine, his husband’s heart, pounding beneath flesh and muscle. Drawing his partner back into an embrace, he lovingly inquired, “Are you alright?”

“Marginally.” Kurt quietly admitted.

Taking one of his hands, Blaine spun Kurt around. “I’m here for you all the way, my love.”

Fondly stroking his husband’s cheek, Kurt grinned. “I appreciate how safe you make me feel.”

Liu’s laughter rose with the yelling of young voices carried down the hall. Looking at the man he loved. “Tell me?”

“A cork fell on the floor. I bent over to pick it up, and she was right there in my face. I freaked.” Kurt fell silent and drew in a deep breath. “I think she’s high.”

Blaine’s face went dark. “You sure?”

Shaking his head and shrugging, Kurt planted a firm kiss on his husband. The act of affection turned into an elongated hug, and Kurt softly whispered, “Thank you for being so special to me.”

“And you’re amazing to me.” Blaine smiled. From the other end of the suite, the sound of yelling children drew his attention away.

Pushing Blaine back, Kurt lowered his head, grinning. Drawing in a deep breath, he said, “I just need a sec.”

“You sure?” Blaine bent forward so he could see Kurt’s face. “I could ask them to leave?”

Shaking his head, Kurt muttered. “No, no.”

Pulling in his upper lip, Blaine suddenly kissed his husband. “I’ll go and be a good host.”

“Do we tell Sam?” Kurt did not look happy.

Blaine frowned and glanced at his watch. “Let’s play it cool until reinforcements arrive.”

“Oh, god?” Kurt moaned.

Blaine rolled his eyes as if thinking and then said, “We’ll warn her.”

Placing a finger on Blaine’s lips, Kurt whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Blaine winked. “Now go and try not to put something too sexy on.”

Patting his husband’s left butt cheek, Blaine stepped out into the hall. Pausing by the twin’s door, his lips moved from side to side, and he drew a large amount of air into his lungs and held it for several heartbeats. 

Katherine suddenly screamed, and Blaine cringed. Hustling down the hall, he found Sam standing in front of the unlit fireplace holding Kate upside down in his arms. The little girl squirmed like a caught fish while squealing with delight. Alex sat on Liu’s lap, where she leaned into him, whispering into his ear. The hair on the back of his neck bristles as Blaine studied Sam’s girlfriend. The moment she looked up, provided confirmation—glassy eyes. 

“Kate, tickle him,” Blaine instructed his daughter with a mischievous grin. On the inside, his apprehension accented his heightened daddy senses. 

Blaine’s mood shifted ever so slightly as he chuckled at the antics. The thickness of the walls kept the children’s shrill voices where they should be, and their antics seemed harmless. The fact Sam loved kids shined in his eyes, but his date made Blaine leery. In the corner of his eye, he noted his son sitting on Lui’s lap with his legs straight out on the cushion. Everything looked proper even though the voice in the back of his mind and the feeling deep in his heart told him otherwise.

Katherine grabbed onto Sam’s leg, the man slid an arm under her and lifted her upright into the air. On the couch, Alexander clapped and laughed with glee as he pointed at his sister.

Smelling the odour rising from the oven, he called to his son, “Alex, would you like to help daddy?”

The little boy beamed and slid off the couch. Alex loved puttering around in the kitchen, making pancakes and muffins with his daddies. Crouched down, Blaine scooped the heavy boy up and twirled him around. Liu watched for a moment and then sipped her wine before her attention shifted to Sam and Katherine. 

Putting his son down, Blaine said, “I need you to help me set another place at the table.”

Alex slithered from his father’s arms and trotted into the kitchen.

“Where’s Kurt,” Sam asked Blaine before falling to the rug in slow motion allowing Kate to pounce.

Blaine’s eyes briefly went to his best friend’s date and then to Sam. “He spilled sauce on himself. He’s changing.”

“That could take a while.” Sam mused. “Do we call off dinner?”

“Your stomach is safe,” Blaine replied as he turned to the kitchen, thinking Sam knew his husband so well. “Can I get you anything before I dive into the veggies?”

“I can help,” Liu volunteered with a devilish grin.

“No, no, you’re our guest,” Blaine held his hands up before him. At the same time Sam sat next to her and looked lovingly into her eyes.

Under Blaine’s watchful eye, Alexander climbed up onto a sturdy stool. Looking to his father first, he reached up into the cabinet to grab a plate. One at a time, Alex placed one of the special plates, a side plate and a crystal goblet carefully onto the counter and then waited for his father’s approval. Blaine gently stroked his son’s hair and then the little boy climbed down with a happy smile. Proudly standing there, Alex’s head turned when his sister charged along the hall with Sam right behind her. An excited smile exploded on his young face and Alex ran through the dining room grabbing onto Sam. Lui laughed when the blond man rolled down onto the floor to allow both kids to pounce. 

That subtle inkling of someone coming up behind him, told Blaine Kurt entered the kitchen. The head turned that way, and Blaine’s lips spread into an adorable smile. There in the door stood his charming husband wearing a dark blue collared sweater with a V-neck dipping dangerously down from his neck. Blue eyes watched the kids through the arch and then Kurt smiled. The children loved running around in a circle from the living room through the dining room, kitchen, and so on. On cue, the child darted up the hall again and into the living room with Sam right behind them. 

Leaning over, Blaine smiled and, in a low voice, said, “Hey sexy.”

Without a word, Kurt kissed his husband before bending down and looking through the glass of the stove door at the roast. Pulling on thick gloves, he drew the roast out and placed it on the counter to rest. A hand briefly touched Blaine’s elbow, and he said, “Why don’t you let me take care of this? We have guests.”

“You alright?” Blaine looked concerned.

Drawing in a breath, Kurt said, “I’ll be fine.”

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand, somehow sensing the uneasiness in his husband’s heart. Lips pressed against his partner’s cheek and then, with a wink, Blaine stepped into the dining area with the plates and goblet his son had laid out. Setting them on the table, he would have to lay out the additional cutlery and a napkin before dinner. From the arch, he asked his guest, “You need another drink?” 

“Liu could use a top-up.” Sam struggled with the two children attaching his legs. 

“Sam?” Blaine inquired.

“I’m good for the moment,” Sam allowed the twins to drag him down and crawl over him. 

“What do you do, Liu?” Blaine asked as he turned toward the dining room.

Smiling, she replied, “I’m in university studying to be a dentist.”

Opening the cooler, Blaine pulled the standing, partially corked bottle out. Peeking into the living room, he added, “Ambitious.”

“My father’s a doctor, so guess I’m following in his footsteps.” She paused. “The two of you are musicians?”

“Blaine’s writing a movie score,” Sam told his girlfriends before rolling so that Kate slid to the floor.

Her eyes brightened, and she looked toward the arch with one eyebrow raised. “Exciting.”

Back in the kitchen on the fridge made a mechanical beeping sound, and Kurt tapped the lower right corner. The screen flickered and then Rachel’s face smiled up at him. Touching a symbol resembling a door, Kurt said, “Come on up.”


	25. Dessert

Blaine greeted his dear friends at the door while Kurt tooled about in the kitchen. With care, Rachel stripped off her long blue cashmere coat and offering it to Blaine. Behind her, Jesse held Barbara in one arm and a large, overstuffed bag in the other. As soon as his wife had disrobed, she turned back and took the bag with both and hands. Her arms immediately drooped, and the bag hit the tiles. Blaine stepped forward, but she shook her head as she slid it against the wall. In the living room, Kate wailed as Sam swung her around along with a peal of a woman's laughter. Alex’s raised voice punctuated the unruliness as he called out the short version of Barbara's name.

The now prominently showing Rachel glanced at her daughter fidgeting in Jesse’s arms. Throwing herself at her host, she drew Blaine into a firm hug. Her brow furrowed and then she quietly commented, “You’re a little tense. What’s wrong?” 

His head turning ever so slightly toward the living room, Blaine whispered, “Sam has another one.”

“Again?” Rachel said in a hushed voice as her extended belly pushed into Blaine. 

Leaning closer, Blaine said just loud enough for the new arrivals to hear, “Something happened between her and Kurt.”

“And” Rachel stretched to see around the corner into the living room.

His eyes following his guest, Blaine quietly said so that only those in the entry could hear. “He’s a bit spooked.”

“Oh, dear?” Rachel looked concerned. “How is he?”

Blaine sighed and then replied, “He’s buried himself in the kitchen.”

With Barbara fidgeting in his arms, Jesse interrupted. “We can go.”

“It’ll be nice to have reinforcements.” The relief on Blaine’s face shown in his honest smile. “Besides, you dragged yourself here, and dinner’s almost ready.”

Rachel touched her friend’s arm and quickly glanced at Jesse, who nodded his agreement. More than anyone else, the two understood the events that recently rocked the two men’s lives. “Do you know what triggered it?”

Blaine shrugged and then gave Rachel a look. “I can guess, but let’s not go there.”

Mr. St. James placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. Jesse said, “Leave it, honey.”

With the toddler squirming in his arms, Jesse crouched down, and the moment her tiny feet hit the tiles, Barbara wanted to run. Restraining his daughter, Jesse removed her tiny jacket. The little girl barely turned around before Alex pushed through the crowd of adults to give her a tight hug. The sudden impact of Kate smashing into her brother sent the tangle of children stumbling. The children looked at one another and the twins giggled. Barbara loudly squealed and then the twins ran to their room with a boisterous toddler trailing behind.

“Excitable,” Jesse watched the kids mash together in the bedroom doorway. 

“You just need to look at their parents to see they are a boisterous brunch,” Sam commented from the short hall to the living room. He came around the corner, holding the hand of a slender and beautiful, young Chinese lady. 

A hand came up as if intended to make introductions, but a sudden loud thump followed by shrill voices caught Blaine’s attention. “Will you excuse me, I have better go and see what trouble they’re getting into.”

“You want me to go?” Jesse offered.

“You’re up next,” Blaine patted his friend on the arm and trotted off down the halls. Children’s voices rose when he stepped into the bedroom.

Sam’s smile turned into a frown when Blaine trotted off. Lui elbowed him, and then he made the introductions, “Rachel, Jesse, this is Liu Chin.” 

“I am happy to meet you,” Liu offered the other woman a hand.

“Delighted,” Rachel firmly took the hand as she subtly looked the woman up and down. “Sam, you have to phone more often. You never told me you found such a rose.”

Liu smiled as Sam’s face reddened. Lowering his head, he said, “It’s been kind of crazy.”

“But not crazy enough to prevent you from skyping with Blaine six or seven times a month. I thought we were friends?” Rachel gave her friend the evil eye.

Giving her a look, Sam retorted, “Rachel, when you learn to like football, I’ll call more often.”

“I’ve missed you.” Rachel threw her arms around the man. Even though she buried her head in the friend’s shoulder, she watched Liu. The elegant woman returned a watchful gaze. 

Looking over the pregnant woman’s shoulders, Sam said to Jesse, “You put up with this?”

“One has to when you’re married.” Jesse grinned.

“Men?” Rachel pushed Sam away and smiled at Liu. “We women are going to have to stick together. Where’s Kurt? Right he’s doing his wifely duties?”

Sam and Jesse glanced at each other and then chuckled.

The Broadway diva took Lui’s arm and led her to the living room. “Now tell me, how did the two of you meet?”

Glancing back over her shoulder, Liu gazed at her boyfriend with a bewildered look. 

The ladies walked away talking and Jesse patted Patting Sam on the back. In a low voice, Rachel’s husband said, “A word of warning. Never contradict your significant other in public.”

“The two of you went to school together as well,” Liu asked Rachel as she sat on the edge of a couch as if she had gone to an elite finishing school. 

“All four of us did,” Rachel glanced at the two men standing just in the entry. “My doting husband was part of the opposition at the time.”

“I guess I have an ally, then?” Liu commented.

Rachel’s brow furrowed as she shifted on the cushion.

The Chinese woman snickered. “I’m a woman in a strange land surrounded by the inhabitants of McKinley,”

Rachel had to smile at her choice of words. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Wifely duties?” Kurt chastised from the arch leading into the dining room. “You’re not even going to say hello.”

“Oh, I saw you yesterday.” Rachel shot back with an evil glare. “That should’ve been enough?” 

With a quick glance at Jesse, Kurt commented, “I guess we’re facing Ms. Berry today?”

“Oh, I’ll give you Ms. Berry, honey child.” Hauling herself to her feet, Rachel waddled over her friend and just stared. A few seconds passed and then she hugged her oldest friend. 

“That’s better.”

“The things I do to keep your divaship happy.”

“Oh, looks who’s talking, sister.”

“Doing drag again?”

“Only when I have coffee with you.”

The two of them laughed and hugged again. Leaning into her dear friend, Rachel whispered, “You’re such a show queen?”

Walking out of the kitchen, Blaine enveloped mother and father in his arms. Kissing each of them on the cheek, he said, “Our little darlings knocked over the pile of books. We really need to get some shelving.”

‘I can get started after dinner?” Sam butt in from the couch where he stood with his arm wrapped about Lui’s waist. 

Kurt shook his head, and Blaine returned a puzzled look.

“Are they alright?” Rachel said to Blaine as she released her grip on Kurt. 

Blaine smiled. “No harm done. Barbara’s being a perfect little lady. She slugged Alex.” 

“That’s my girl.” Jesse proudly commented. 

Kurt looked concerned and commented, “They do like to get rough with one another.” 

His head rolling, Jesse replied, “They’re kids, Kurt. They’ll skin a few knees.”

“They’re colouring now,” Blaine stated with a little grin. “Alex is no artist.”

“As long as they can sing, I’m happy,” Rachel smirked. 

“Two divas in the family are bad enough,” Jesse joked as he turned away from the piano to study the nearest painting. “I haven’t seen these before, where did you get them?”

“We bought them from the previous owner,” Blaine stepped back from his husband and his best friend. “The usual Jesse and soda for the Mrs.?”

“Yes, please,” Jesse replied as he bent down and examined the signature. “These are originals,”

Blaine paused and glanced in at his husband. Shrugging, he said, “Mr. Leow bought them ten years ago.”

Kurt added, “Mrs. Leow said they were painted by a local artist named Marcus Barriman.”

“He just showed at the Guggenheim.” Jesse stood and backed away to get a better look at the matching set. “You might want to get them appraised.”

“I think we should get hold of Mrs. Leow and let her know,” Kurt commented to his husband, and the glanced down the hall. Loud, young voices echoed down the corridor, followed by a shrill scream. 

“Guess, that’s me.” Jesse rolled his eyes with a grin. Stepping away, he stopped and kissed his wife on the cheek.

Lui perched herself on the edge of the couch and looked at the paintings with a critical eye. With a hard tone, she commented, “Impressionism is not my thing, but they are colourful.”

Sam sipped his drink and then said, “Liu has a few nice pieces from China.”

“Just a couple of vases and a large tapestry that belonged to my great-grandfather.” Liu’s right eye twitched.

Sam smiled and leaned into his girlfriend and set his lip to the side of her head. “We’re planning to go to China in the spring.”

“I want him to see where I come from.” Liu gazed at Sam, and then her eyes went to Kurt.

Sam looked a bit apprehensive and then stated, “Schuester is bouncing about the idea of a New Dimension’s reunion.”

“Really?” Rachel turned to face the man with the ponytail with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

Sam downed his scotch and shrugged. “It’s hard to compete with the infamous Ms. Berry.”

“Funny,” Rachel grinned. 

“It would be fun,” Blaine leaned forward with a look of excitement on his face. “To see everyone on the old stage again. Is he going to contact everyone?”

The blond man shrugged.

“I doubt he knows that Mercedes is somewhere in Europe,” Kurt called from the kitchen.”

Sam got up and walked toward the kitchen. “Where is she?”

Blaine watched his friend walk by and snickered. “She’s doing three extra shows in Berlin.”

“How do you know that?” Sam called from the kitchen where ice clattered against crystal.

“You do have Facebook, don’t you, Sam?” Rachel shot back.

With a bounce, Sam posed in a manner Kurt might. “I live in a trailer at the end of a cornfield. What’s Facebook?” 

“Ha, ha,” Rachel did not look impressed. 

Lui sat book giving Sam a funny look and said, “You have a house.”

“He’s playing with us, Lui,” Rachel replied. 

Sam’s girlfriend rolled her head and politely smiled at her boyfriend. Blaine, however, noted Sam’s tension even though he playfully bobbed his head back and forth. Suddenly she broke out laughing, letting Sam off the hook. 

Rachel went back to the subject at hand and added, “I believe Artie and Tina are in California.”

“They’re the filmmakers?” Lui asked Sam.

“They’re doing documentaries,” Sam replied.

Lui looked thoughtful and then asked, “About what?” 

“I don’t know what they’re working on now, but their last one was about the story of one of the Zulu chieftains of South Africa during the time of British colonialism. They interviewed family and government officials and told the story from the point of view of his great-great-grandson and daughter.”

“Their previous feature dug into the hidden world of presidential elections,” Kurt pointed out.

A curious look crossed Lui’s face, and her eyes glittered. With a sideways glance at Kurt, she asked, “Have they done any real movies?”

“Not yet, but they’re working on something,” Rachel replied.

“What about Brittany and Santana?” Blaine noticed Rachel’s eyes narrow at him. Even after all these years, the ladies did get along. “I’ve not heard from them other than our annual skyping on our collective anniversary.” 

The retired New Directions shook their heads, and Lui frowned as if someone did something she did not like. 

Edging back toward the dining room, Blaine added, “Mike’s in Montreal talking to Cirque du Soleil.”

“Wait,” Kurt’s eyes bristled with enthusiasm. “Let’s do this properly. There’s a lot of planning that goes into something like this. First, we will need to firm updates, the people, the venue and―”

Rachel lifted her hands and waved them at Kurt. “Slow down, Mrs. Wedding Planner.” 

Kurt grimaced, and his right eyelid twitched. The little infliction did not go unnoticed by Blaine, who noted his husband looked away from the couch toward the window. 

“Does Schuester have a time frame?” Rachel asked as she watched Sam walked over to Liu with new drinks. “Some of us have to work, and you can just park your tracker.”

Sam snapped his fingers and looked as if he struggled to remember. Sipping his refreshed drink, he shrugged and said, “He’s thinking perhaps at the twenty-thirty.”

“Talk about planning ahead,” Rachel looked from Sam to Blaine.

“It gives us lots of time to prepare,” Jesse walked into the living room carrying Barbara

Katherine ran before Mr. St. James and made a beeline for Sam, who put his drink down before scooping her up. The little girl squealed as Sam got to his feet and lifted her over his shoulder. Little Alexander trailed behind, ran around Jesse and stopped when Sam lowered himself to his knees. Rolling over the handsome blond man allowed the twins to climb on top of him. Squirming in her father’s arms, Barbara wanted to join in.

Gazing at his rambunctious children, Blaine said to his husband, “We could plan to make it a full family affair.”

“That would be fun,” Kurt replied with a twitch in the corner of his eye. “I should get back to getting dinner ready.”

A shiver ran up Blaine’s back, informing him of Kurt’s continued anxiety. Honey-brown eyes followed the man as he turned toward the kitchen. In the corner of his eye, he noticed Rachel’s look. Her hand fell on his arm, and she smiled with a wink. With a quiet sigh, Blaine engaged Sam and Lui in conversation, even though he watched Rachel pass under the second arch.

“I’ll help you.” Rachel disregarded her friend’s whining with a stern gaze.

“I guess I have no choice?” Kurt knew that look and sighed. 

“No, you don’t,” Rachel glanced back through the duel arched to the living room. “What’s got your knickers in a bunch?” 

“What do you mean?” Kurt kept his voice down, and he stepped to the stove. Three pots bubbled away, and a large juicy roast rested on a platter waiting for a knife to it justice. Buns and potatoes kept warm in the bottom section oven. 

Reaching into a cabinet for a wine goblet and a high tumbler, she added, “Blaine said you’re feeling unsettled.”

“At times, I wish he would mind his own business.” Kurt bit his lip with sudden ashamed. 

Rubbing her friend’s arm, Rachel quietly said, “Kurt, I know the normal you, and you would never say such a thing about Blaine. Are you alright?”

“Shaky, but well,” Kurt admitted stirring each pot with a little more gusto than necessary. Abruptly stopping, he let out a loud puff of air, and his head drooped. “He’s an adorable man.”

“Did Sam’s girlfriend do something?”

“It’s not her.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You’re a bad liar, Kurt?”

“Rachel, I’m fine.”

“Then what?” 

Kurt glared at his friend and then sighed. In a low voice, he said, “Okay, she got a little too close for comfort.”

Looking toward the living room Rachel did not look happy. “Did she touch you?” 

Kurt turned his attention to the pots. “She just startled me.”

Examining the temperatures of the duel wine cooler she and Jesse bought the boys as a housewarming gift, Rachel opened the door to the warmer section. Fingers wrapped around a cool bottle and then she proceeded to uncork it. Pouring the proper amount into the glass, she stated, “Think about it. I’ll be right back.”

Watching her leave, Kurt leaned against the counter. Bowing his head, he felt a tingling carry up his back as if a familiar finger grazed his shin. Dragging his teeth over his lips, Kurt looked to his left and noted the bottle. For a moment, he did nothing, and then he reached for the nearest glass. A red liquid swirled around the interior of the tumbler halfway. He stared at the glass he held and then downed the contents all in one shot. Softly putting it down, he noticed his hand trembled. 

Closing his eyes, he slowly breathed in and out, in an attempt to bring calm. Fate worked against him as the bubbling of the water, and the sound of approaching footfalls interrupted. His eyes opened to see Sam bouncing into the kitchen with a tumbler in one hand and a wine glass in the other. The blond man said nothing as he topped up the drinks, for the third time. Patting Kurt on the shoulder, the pouty blond returned to the living room where Blaine sat at the piano tickling the keys. Moments later, two male voices rose in a song as they relived their days in the New Directions. 

Coming up beside her friend, Rachel draped an arm about Kurt’s waist and leaned against his shoulder. “That man of yours does have a dreamy voice.”

“I could listen to him forever.” Kurt had to smile because Blaine’s smooth voice always made him buzz in the best way. 

Rachel leaned into Kurt and commented, “Regardless of your struggles, the two of you were meant to be together.”

Kurt bent his head so that it rested against hers. Regardless of her shortcomings, he would not trade Rachel in for anything. She challenged him in ways Blaine could not. 

“Damn, that kiss.” Rachel pushed herself into her friend and went to the fridge. “He would have made such a fine husband.”

“Yes, god bless that coffee smelling kiss,” Kurt forced himself to sound clever.

Rachel opened the door and took out a bottle of soda water. “Just you remember that, my man.”

Kurt tensed up and peeked under the lids of the pot on the stove. Even though he tried, he could not avoid her. Years of dealing with each other’s shit made hiding the simplest emotion almost impossible. Stubbornly he told himself he could get through this. 

Glancing back, Kurt noted his friend’s heavy gaze. Frowning, he asked her, “Rachel, could you be a darling and put the cutlery out for one place.”

“I’m not your servant.” She gave him a hard look and filled a tall glass with the bubbly liquid. 

Kurt cheekily smiled, “No, you’re a dear friend who worships the ground I walk on.”

Wagging her finger at Kurt as she stepped around the corner, Rachel warned, “No more kids, Kurt!”

Laughter lifted Kurt’s mood. Rachel smiled as she dug into the drawer for the elegant flatware and a linen napkin. Picking up the red wine bottle, she winked at her best friend as she strolled into the dining room. Setting his attention on the meal, Kurt took the lid off the peas and carrots and found the colander. Dumping the contents of the pot into the sieve in the sink, a great ball of steam clouded the window. 

Poking her head around the corner, the pregnant woman asked, “Kurt, you want me to cut up the roast.” 

“I got it,” Blaine walked up behind his friend and lightly touched her on the arm. Behind him, Sam and Lui walked to the table and sat. 

“Jesse?” Rachel asked, looking about with a concerned look on her face.

“Herding children,” Jesse replied from the living room.

Blaine maneuvered, passed Rachel and quickly kissed his husband. The hesitance he sensed instantly confirmed the odd things he felt while playing the piano. For a second there, he felt as if the keys radiated the heat of Kurt’s aroused body. Blaine responded to the lingering effects by gently massaging the tense muscles in Kurt’s shoulders. 

Rachel gave Blaine a speculative look and glanced toward the living room. “I guess I should go and help get the children together.”

“Can we do anything?” Sam asked from the other room 

“After dinner, it’s your turn to sing,” Blaine suggested as he started to cut into the roast. “No country.”

Dinner proceeded with a short delay. Sam sat in the middle of the living room side with Liu at his right. Blaine took the end of the row where he could keep an eye on the twins. Jesse positioned himself across from Blaine with the highchair pulled close. With Rachel in the middle, Kurt settled in across from Sam’s girlfriend. The roast bled just enough to keep it tender, and Liu’s suggestion of ginger added a delightful bite to the meat. With careless disregard for decorum, Barbara pushed food into her face with two hands. Every so often, Blaine or Kurt would excuse themselves to assist the twins.

Blaine found something disturbing when he took Alex to the bathroom to clean gravy from his face and neck―fine white powder pressed into the edge of the sink. Heat rose up his neck and into his ears as he considered what Kurt told him earlier. His eyes narrowed. What if one of the kids had ingested just a little bit? 

His son unexpectantly wrapped his tiny arms about his father drowning the anger welling up in a father’s heart. Hazel eyes meet the soft orbs of a boy, and Blaine smiled. Eyes flickering up at his father, an innocent little boy asked, “Is papa sick?”

Shocked, Blaine fought to retain a calm exterior. “He’s not feeling well.”

“Can I help?”

“Yes. Go back to papa and give your papa a big hug.”

“I can do that.” The boy jumped up and ran out into the hall. 

Standing there with a wet cloth in his hand, Blaine breathed several times. He could not be sure what the white powder might be, and he had to project calm for the sake of his family. Kurt tried his best and Blaine had to admire him for that.

Leaning against the counter, Blaine swore under his breath and splashed water on his face. His head came up, and he stared at the water dripping from his face. A single drop fell from his nose and splashed onto the side of the sink, and Blaine realized he shook. Did that simple droplet represent Kurt’s gentle nature slowly unravelling? Snatching up a towel, Blaine pressed it against his face and held it there. He needed this moment to tranquillity if this evening would end on a good note. 

After cleaning the counter and skin surround, Blaine drew in a deep breath and prepared himself. Returning to the others, he cleared the plates before displaying the fancy finale to an excellent meal. From the fridge, he took out a tray with a homemade torte topped with a mound of fresh fruit and berries. 

“It’s lovely,” Liu cooed, and then her eyes went to Kurt, and she sweetly smiled. “Which one of you do I have to thank for this wonderful repast.” 

“My darling husband can take all the credit. He spent the morning torturing himself creating the decadence,” Kurt proudly stated. His eyes went to the man he loved, and the delectable torte Blaine set the on the table within sight of the greedy twins. 

“Blaine, you have been holding out on me,” Rachel chided as she watched Blaine return the kitchen. 

Kurt winked at his best gal pal and called the twins to him. 

Alexander and Katherine sat at either end of the big table for dessert. Kneeling on their chairs, they behaved themselves until Sam thrust his face within inches of Alexander. The dam burst when a mass of creamy filling found itself pressed up into the adult’s face. Acting surprised, Sam pulled back and then thrust his face back at the little boy. A squeal of delight rose from the other end of the table where Kate gleefully watched. Not to be left out, Barbara took a spoon and tossed it to the floor. 

Without warning, the chair flew back with a crash and Kurt bolted from the room. The noise startled Barbara, and she let out a shrill wail. Blaine started to rise, but fatherly instincts suffocated the desire to run after Kurt when Alex began to bawl.


	26. Honesty

The scream sounded like a baying wolf muffled by a pillow. Recollections of drugged terror ripped at whatever dignity remained, devasting any hope of rational thought. Mangled hands tore at cloth as a forked tongue salivated over a slab of fresh, raw meat. The soul shrunk as the heart wailed with the repulsive touch of moist, fresh, violated pristine skin. Finger tipped with the darts of a scorpion crawled the tender skin of the inner thigh seeking a coveted prize. The gleaming eyes of a hideous creature swirling in the mist mixing with the events of the past couple of hours. A cork bounced on the floor and Liu’s carefully manicured brows twisted into a ghostly shape and bright red lips warped into the menacing smirk of a psychopath. The heart froze with the dreadful penetration and Kurt world slid into the abyss. Satanic laughter filled his ears as bloody fingers dug in the tumbling earth shovelled down on him.

With strength, he did not know he could muster Kurt hauled the comforter over him as if it offered some measure of protection. The thick, fluffy fabric slithered beneath Kurt, who unconsciously stopped when the body ventured dangerously close to the edge of the mattress. Tangled up in the comforter, Kurt squirmed to the center of the bed. Curling up into a ball, Kurt lay on a segment of a quilt while the rest piled on the floor like mounds of suffocating dirt. Fingers grabbed at the fragments of cloth, partially covering Kurt's body reflected bloody nails digging in hardened soil.

A low moan rumbled from Kurt’s throat as a body suddenly quaked. The mud sliding down the sides of a pit bubbled and the water gushed out and transformed into overlapping images of horror. Unrealized memories exploding into the anguished mind, heart and soul, making it hard to draw in air. The chest tightened and then Kurt’s covered his head with his hands. The cascade of dreadful visions, smells, vile touches and sounds played over and over like a record with the needle stuck in a single groove ripped at his flagging sanity.

The body jumped each time the record skipped taking a brittle mind back to the beginning. Every word, every moment of pain and the sense of violation congealed within Kurt, sending him closer to the precipice. Something touched him on the shoulder and a low yelp bubbled through parched lips. The mattress moved as if someone sat and his butt cheeks clenched tight against the coming offence. The feeling of soft bosoms against his back confused as an armpit came to rest on his side as a caring arm fell across his heaving chest. Fearing the deceptions of a monster, Kurt coiled up into a ball at the bottom of a pit.

“Kurt?” a familiar voice peeled like bight bells within the morass of Kurt’s mind.

A shattered man shimmied away as he pulled his hand up over his head as unrestrained guilt crushed the heart threatening his fragile stability. Never again would he be held in the middle to the night or feel a kiss a skinned knee or lean into soft caresses when he lay in bed sick. Pushing his head into the pillow, a sobbing man lost all hope. Life felt lost and utterly useless.

The interloper remained still for a moment and then leaned against one elbow, single hand rested upon his shoulder. Moving it around in a gentle circle, she hummed as she would to her children. Some aspects of a devastated mind responded to the gentle tune by sliding a tiny bit closer. The endless flow of tumbling dirt eased to a dribble and a shaft of light cut through the dense darkness. Choking on the air, he breathed, Kurt abruptly grasped that hand and felt the person beside him flinch with his firmness.

“You’re safe now, Kurt,” the gentle female voice whispered.

Drawing the hand down to his chest, Rachel had no choice but to follow. A heavy sniffle proceeded his words, “I thought you were my . . . mother.”

“Oh, my darling, darling.” Rachel inched closer and pressed her swelling belly against the small of Kurt’s back and started to softly stroke Kurt’s hair. “All women are the mother to the world, and we love all the same way.”

Fingers abruptly grappled the hand, touching him, and he pulled the arm over his body, where Kurt hugged it as if nothing else in the world existed. Her sweet breath dredged up memories of the woman who brought Kurt into the world pushed the darkness away displacing the chill in his heart with growing warmth. When he opened his mouth, the word she spoke could barely went almost unheard, “Rachel?”

“Oh, my Kurt,” Rachel’s large, watery eyes stared back at him.

Silence prevailed for the longest time and then Kurt barely whispered, “I’m broken—”

Not really know what to say, Rachel hesitantly uttered, “Kurt?”

“How could . . . no . . . I—” The upset man fell silent again.

Her head fell against the shoulder of the man beside as she drew him closer. Choking down deep sentiment, Rachel let Kurt’s sentiments flow.

“I’m—” The man shuddered and started to cry again.

Not knowing what to do, Rachel comforted her oldest friend by pulling him close. The child within suddenly kicked, and for a brief moment, the sobbing man felt hope. Then it all crashed in on him once more in an increasing crescendo of sobs. “Rachel . . . I found pills.”

The woman next to him stiffened, and her breath hitched in her chest.

“I’m spoiled.” Kurt moaned and then pressed the side of his face to his nose into the pillow. “It’s all my fault.”

The sobs came again, and Rachel reacted in the only way she could by squeezing closer. A hand gently came to rest on Kurt’s chest, and for the first time, Rachel felt the heaviness of her friend’s beating heart. Fighting back her tears, she tried her best not to break down.

“How can Blaine still love me. How can he—” Kurt violently shook and started to cry again.

Rachel placed her head on Kurt’s back and quietly cried. The need of her greatest friend glued her in place, but she knew someone else needed to be here. As if some force heard her, the bed moved as if someone shifted closer. Comforting arms pulled away, to be replaced by the smell of a person who conjured up fond images of happy laughter and tender longing. The wailing of the heart lost in monstrous torments melted away with the comforting limb slid under his neck and over his torso. On instinct, Kurt pushed back into the form behind him feeling the coziness leach into his trembling body. He buried his head into the arm and a great burst of quaking sobs provided a release.

Nestled against his husband, Blaine pressed his lips into Kurt’s neck, kissing it ever so gently. Anger instantaneously gave way to distress as he sought the reassurances to prevent his heart from breaking. A weary mind remembered hesitating at the bedroom door where Kurt heard silent voices and frequent sobbing. Some of what he caught terrified him, yet, in that strange way, he understood. As difficult as this would be, Blaine must be strong.

Caught up in his conflicting needs and grave misgivings, Blaine tried to focus on his husband but found his thought drawn to raised voices. Two friends went at it somewhere in the halls with children wailing in the background.

“—don’t care, Sam.” Rachel’s voice rose and fell.

“—not fair, I—” Liu’s defended herself.

“Shut up—” Rachel growled. “—never again and not near my children!”

“—nothing to do—" Sam’s voice climbed in volume. “You’re overreacting as—”

The shrill yells of a child caused the adult voices to drop to a murmur.

“Jesus, Rachel,” Sam’s voice rose over the children. “She—”

“Damn it, Sam, you know enough.” Rachel screeched back. “Look at her for god’s sack or are you to blond to see she’s as—”

Jesse’s voice interceded from somewhere, and it became apparent Rachel turned her attention to her children. Sam called after her and then a woman yelled at him before the front door slammed.

Word continued out in the hall between Sam and Rachel. Blaine shuddered when he heard the door slam for a second time. Some part of him wanted to be there, but now the duty as a loving husband bolted him to the bed. The blood pumping into his brain from a pounding heart left him light-headed, making it hard to control his emotions. What would be the impact on their lives and their children? Barbara may not recall raised voices, but Alexander and Katherine posed another issue. He would have to deal with their questions later, because, at this moment, he belonged solely to his beleaguered husband.

Some minutes later, the bedroom door opened, and Jesse poked his head into the room. Speaking in a low volume, he said, “Rachel and I are taking the twins home with us. You need to be alone with Kurt.”

The air rushing into Blaine’s lungs did not make him feel better. Slowly he rolled over to stretch his neck so he could see. In a low tone he asked, “Sam’s gone?”

“Yes, and he is less than happy with Rachel,” Jesse made a face. “We’ll call in the morning to see how things are.”

Silence punctuated by sniffling prevailed after Jesse softly shut the door. The occasional loud noise of a child passed through the door created a dull ache within Blaine’s chest. A parent wanted to comfort his little darling, and he felt guilty.

Ten or so minutes later, Blaine faintly heard the chattering of young voices and then the front door open and closed. With a sigh, he turned his full attention to his shivering husband. Cuddled up against his trembling husband, Blaine waited for a sign that Kurt calmed down. For a few moments, he did nothing and then Blaine pulled the quilt over the two of them before settling in against his Kurt’s back. The instant his hand came to rest on his lover’s chest, Kurt grabbed it and pulled him in close. With care, Blaine rested his head on the other man’s shoulder Blaine began to sing in that expressively emotional way only he could.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JpYZ0mDTzc4 - This is the scene of Kurt singing for Blaine. Just think of it in reverse and an octave lower.)

_Share my life, take me for what I am_  
_Cause I'll never change all my colors for you_  
_Take my love, I'll never ask for too much_  
_Just all that you are and everything that you do_

_I don't really need to look very much further_  
_I don't want to have to go where you don't follow_  
_I won't hold it back again, this passion inside_  
_Can't run from myself, there's nowhere to hide_

_Don't make me close one more door_  
_I don't wanna hurt anymore_  
_Stay in my arms if you dare_  
_Or must I imagine you there?_

_Don't walk away from me_  
_I have nothing, nothing, nothing_  
_If I don't have you, you, you, you, you_

_You see through, right to the heart of me_  
_You break down my walls with the strength of your love, mhh, oh_  
_I never knew love like I've known it with you_  
_Will a memory survive, oh, one I can hold on to_

_I don't really need to look very much further_  
_I don't want to have to go where you don't follow_  
_I won't hold it back again, this passion inside_  
_I can't run from myself, there's nowhere to hide_  
_Your love I'll remember forever_

_Don't make me close one more door_  
_I don't wanna hurt anymore_  
_Stay in my arms if you dare_  
_Or must I imagine you there?_

_Don't walk away from me_  
_I have nothing, nothing, nothing_

_Don't make me close one more door_  
_I don't wanna hurt anymore_  
_Stay in my arms if you dare_  
_Or must I imagine you there?_

_Don't walk away from me, no_  
_Don't walk away from me_  
_Don't you dare walk away from me_  
_I have nothing, nothing, nothing_  
_If I don't have you, you_  
_If I don't have you, oh, you_

Raw emotions cavorted with each man in different ways, leaving Blaine uncertain if he did the right thing. Kurt’s body shivered as his chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. No one spoke for a short while after Blaine’s voice became quiet and then the bed moved. Holding his breath, he let it out slowly when he realized Kurt slowly edged his back into his chest.

“I sang that for you.” Kurt sniffled as he placed a hand on his husband’s thigh and squeezed it.

A smile pulled at Blaine’s lips. “It melted my heart.”

“But not your anger.”

“Honesty did that.”

“Honesty?”

“Yes, honesty.” Blaine drew in a short breath, knowing he neared the point of no return. “You once told me to be honest with you. Please, be honest with me now.”

Kurt pulled his head away and lay there for a moment and then pushed back so that he rested against his husband. “Blaine, how can you look at me . . . you deserved better.”

“Kurt, you don’t mean that?” Blaine pulled Kurt closer regardless of the fear etched long lines in his heart. He trusted Kurt with his very life, but, this moment, would Kurt return the favour?

A violent shiver rocked Kurt’s, and he began to cry again. Holding onto Blaine's arm with a tight grip, he found the will to utter a few words, “I’m . . . a worthless whore.”

Whore? On my god! Blaine’s heart virtually stopped. Blinking back huge tears, he had no idea how to react as a single word sent him for a loop. With steel will he fought to keep his fragile sentiments from twisting a knife into his heart. He asked for honesty and now he got it in the face. The heavy emotion spewing from his husband dug into Blaine’s soul showing him a path he had never known existed. Drawing on the courage love imbued in him, he carefully leaned forward and bestowed a tender kiss on Kurt’s ear. Surprisingly, that simple, stinging word left Blaine with a strange feeling that reality somehow turned a corner.

Buoyed by an odd, warming sensation in his suffering heart, old Blaine drew in a deep staggering breath. Had it happened as he remembered? A feeble mind could no longer see the thin line where reality and fantasy mixed. The ache seething in his torso and the tingling deep down into is toes and fingers became of a constant reminder of the grim truth he faces. His life waned with every breath he took, and he could only be confident of one thing—death. The final reckoning stared him in the face dissolving his conscious mind.

The confusion of tangled thoughts mangled the subtle differences a tired, sore old man felt, saw and heard. A struggling body competed with time and a mind that refused to let a perfectly natural event to overcome him. The pain pulsing in his limbs told an old man he should give up and let everything follow its course. On the other hand, love made it impossible for him to dismiss the feeling that somehow the man he loved lingered close. A fond smile pulled at wrinkled lips and in his mind, he felt a young man squeeze the body coiled against him.

A tear found itself stuck in the hairs of a beard in two different points in time. In the present, an old voice sounded gravelly but in memory, a young man spoke with deep compassion. “The life we share, while not perfect, represents everything to me Kurt. The ups and downs, the birth of the twins and the struggles we continued to face. It all goes back to the day on those curving stairs where you captured my enduring love. We’ve fought. We’ve broken up and found ourselves again. I married you, Kurt, because you are my everything. I’ll love you, always.”

“Even when—” Kurt muttered. His voice quivered and died away as his body slunk away from Blaine.

Gently hauling his lover closer so that his chest once more pressed into Kurt’s back, Blaine gently rubbed his husband’s chest. Pressing his lips to his husband’s exposed neck, Blaine whispered, “For better and worse. For love and chastisement, I demand you remain in my life as my lover, my partner and my equal.”

Moving his legs, so one foot pressed in between Blaine’s, Kurt spoke at first in a murmur, “For weeks afterward . . . the idea of having coffee petrified me. There was no safety even behind a locked door. I wanted to hide in some murky corner, but the darkness frightened me.”

Tenderly he inserted the rest of his leg between his lover’s shins and Kurt instinctively wrapped himself around it. Slowly the pounding in Blaine’s chest became one with the heart beating in Kurt’s rib cage. Regardless of their highly emotional states, the familiar and comfortable sensation helped both men find an equilibrium.

“Blaine . . . oh, my lovely Blaine.” Kurt, suddenly he drew in a deep shaking breath and started to sniffle. “I’ve failed you.”

Pushing himself up, Blaine kissed Kurt on the cheek. “You have failed no one, my dearest.”

“You don’t . . . understand.” A long silence followed and then Kurt added, “Sex frightens me. Your wonderful body . . . I’m afraid.”

“Sh-sh-sh-sh, Kurt,” Blaine softly whispered even though his mind went ‘oh my god’.

“At times, it feels as if we’re seventeen again, and I want you so much and then—” Kurt quivered and pushed his head into Blaine’s arm. “I’m a whore.”

That term again. The meaning folded into conscious thoughts like so many cards spread out on the table. A fist balled up as tears flowed from Blaine’s eyes. Judiciously placing his chin on his husband’s shoulder, he whispered. “I will never do anything you do not what. If you don’t want to, tell me.”

“I—” Kurt pushed his head into the pillow. “—want you so much, but—”

Tears soaked the back of Kurt’s shirt while Blaine softly ran his thumb along the side of the hand, grasping his. “Kurt, I love you and will never hurt you.”

“Blaine, I . . . I—” Kurt caught himself and started to cry again.

Suppressing his desire to bawl, Blaine held his sentiments as firm as possible. Breaking down would not help either of them, but everything he heard and felt killed him.

“I feel . . . I do not know. I want to yell, but that voice echoes in my head like he’s—” Kurt shivered in his silence.

Blaine tugged his arm out from under Kurt, and it immediately exploded with pins and needles. It took a little effort to pull himself up onto one elbow, so he looked down at his husband. Watery hazel eyes stared as he considered how he could follow Kurt into the mire consuming him. Images of the trial and talking to psychologists bounced about his head. He tried to comprehend what Kurt suffered, but he had not experienced the violence of rape.

Feeling suddenly useless, be it by instinct or some other force, he murmured into Kurt’s ear, “Think of the happiest day of our lives. Think of Sue, Santana and Brittany and the quirky way they made us see the light. Live that light, my love. It’s ours, and ours alone and no monster can take it from you.”

Kurt reached over, so a hand fell on Blaine’s ass. Lightly sobbing, he drew his husband close to him. “You have to understand. You became lost in the fog . . . and . . . and, our lovely little ones, our play faded away to the point I . . . I wanted an end.”

A single word confirmed a deep fear created by hushed tones he heard from the door. The fear of losing the man he loved to HIV did not compare to the sharp pain engulfing his heart. Swallowing, Blaine drew on what strength he could. With tears rolled down his cheeks, Blaine said in a quiet, shaky voice, “What kind of husband am I?”

“Blaine?”

“If you failed me, then I failed you. I should have noticed you wandering around on automatic. I should have seen the fear in your eyes. I should have felt your hesitation.”

“Oh, Blaine, no, you are not that . . . monster. You’re my knight.”

“Kurt?”

“Some macabre sense of loss forced me to sit through the entire trial and now I’m . . . remembering.”

Another ‘oh god’ moment infiltrated Blaine’s chest, squishing his heart with inexpressible horror. Barely able to speak, and to his surprise, he managed to say, “I am here for you, Kurt. Let it all out. Cry. Yell. Hit if it will help.”

“No! Never.” Kurt abruptly shifted so that he could look over his shoulder at a sharp angle. “Even in my loneliness, you kept me anchored. Your touch, your smell, the sound of you puttered at the piano kept my head above water. Darkness might have sounded me, but I looked to you to see a point of light and hope.”

‘Loneliness,’ Blaine never considered Kurt might have felt that way. Feeling suddenly afraid he squeezed Kurt tight and stated, “You will never be alone dearest one.”

“You, Rachel and Jesse, our parents, stood with me through it all.” Kurt rolled out from under his lover and turned so he faced his husband. Red, teary eyes stared into the dim light into amazing hazel. When he spoke, his voice shook. “Blaine how . . . how . . . can you—”

The only way Blaine could answer involved slowly pressing his lips to his husband’s. The bodies wrapped into each other and then Kurt buried his face into Blaine’s chest. Together they shed simple, healing tears until Kurt rolled over onto his back. Without hesitation, Blaine rested his head on his husband’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

Without looking, Blaine felt Kurt’s eyes apprehensively moving about the room. The anguish Kurt suffered continued to bubble in his chest like an unattended pot. Then, as if someone turned down the heat, Blaine felt Kurt give into the calm their tenderness and his eyes closed. Gently stroking Kurt’s cheek, Blaine wiped the remaining moisture away. In a soft tone, he said, “My sweet, you don’t have to fear him anymore.”

“He’s with me every minute of the day laughing in my mind.” Kurt shuddered, and then the finger traced his lover’s lips.

“I’m with you every minute of the day in here, cheering you on.” Blaine placed his hand on Kurt’s chest. The heartbeat rapidly though slower than before.

“Yes, you are.”

“And I am here to hold you every night.”

“You make me feel safe, but . . . he’s in my head.”

“So am I. When you feel him think of me? Think about our wedding and our sweet babies. Remember that I will always cherish and protect you.”

“Like Karofsky?”

“Like Karofsky.”

Kurt trembled, and his head rolled away. “But you’re going to London and I’ll be alone.”


	27. A Knock at the Door

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oR6okRuOLc8 - The Rose, Bette Midler)

_Some say, "Love. It is a river_   
_That drowns the tender reed"_   
_Some say, "Love. It is a razor_   
_That leaves your soul to bleed"_   
_Some say, "Love. It is a hunger_   
_An endless aching need"_   
_I say, "Love. It is a flower_   
_And you its only seed"_

_It's the heart afraid of breaking_   
_That never learns to dance_   
_It's the dream afraid of waking_   
_That never takes the chance_   
_It's the one who won't be taken_   
_Who cannot seem to give_   
_And the soul afraid of dyin'_   
_That never learns to live_

_When the night has been too lonely_   
_And the road has been too long_   
_And you think that love is only_   
_For the lucky and the strong_   
_Just remember in the winter_   
_Far beneath the bitter snow_   
_Lies the seed that with the sun's love_   
_In the spring becomes the rose_

Blaine’s voice trailed off as a gust of cold wind drove the warmth of the sun from his face. Soft hazel eyes stared out toward the Atlantic Ocean while the warmth of a coffee cup thawed his hands. The fabric of the coat protected him from the chill rising from the metal railing his forearms lay on. In the distance, a large freighter lumbered out to sea while a navy destroyer moved toward the Brooklyn Dockyard. Tugs moved here and there while private watercraft bounced on the waves darting from place to place. Overhead, squawking seagulls played on the breeze waiting for someone to toss something into the water. The paths teamed with office workers taking an extended lunch and children ran around on the grass enjoying themselves.

Worry etched marks into Blaine’s heart, as he turned away from the choppy water. Even though their discussions with Doctor Donaldson provided release, conflicting emotions bothered him. Kurt suggested a walk, and on their way through Battery Park, Blaine’s brooding whitewashed his thoughts. Kurt’s silence did not help. Not willing to give I just yet, he retreated into the only thing he knew would lift their spirits—music. Choosing the first song to come into his head, he regretted it as soon as the first phrases left his lips. However, Kurt slipped his arms into Blaine and leaned into him with a gentle hip bump. In response, Blaine hugged his husband’s arm with both hands and turned toward him. Kurt’s glum face suddenly lit up, and he glanced to his right to where the Statue of Liberty rose out of the water.

An occasional stroke of a finger on the back of Blaine’s hand spoke to Kurt’s needs. Stopping to pick up another coffee, the two men quietly made their way out of the park. The closer they got to home, the moodier Kurt got. When Blaine paused at the door to let a third-floor neighbour with an armload of bags into the building, Kurt marched on as if he had not noticed. Taking the elevator upstairs, Blaine found the door to their suite ajar. Shutting the door behind him, Blaine heard Kurt muttering to himself in the kitchen, followed by running water.

A sigh escaped Blaine’s lips, and he inclined against the wall where the entry met the hall. Glancing at his watch, he frowned and then took off his coat before heading to the bedroom. Taking his shirt off as he walked, Blaine tossed it on the bed seconds after he entered the dim room. Bare muscles reflected on the glass protecting the pictures on the wall as his arms come up as he arched his shoulders back. His arms came down to the across his torso, the back stretched, and then he felt a gentle pop. Days of stress highlighted the torments of the past year and a half made him feel old.

The body leaned to the left, and Blaine slowly rolled his body and neck up to the right. Suddenly he grimaced, knowing he could not keep going on this way. He loved the man, but he had to consider the twins, who dwelled at Rachel’s for two days now. The day following a failed dinner party, Blaine spoke to them, and Jesse said they would keep the twins with them until Kurt settled down. He, they, missed their little bundles of endless energy.

The jaw tightened, and Blaine felt the trap closing in on him. A hand went down to his pocket, holding a folded prescription for tranquillizers. The darkness blended with the scribbling as if the gloom confirmed Blaine’s desire not to use them. Even though he hated using any type of drug, they might be necessary if something did not break.

“Blaine, you’re awfully quiet,” Kurt called from the kitchen.

Shocked, Blaine blinked as one of his hands slapped against his bare chest. Breathing rapidly, he hesitantly responded, “Just thinking.”

The seconds ticked on before Kurt called back, “You alright?”

“Just tired.” Blaine glanced at his watch. “I’m going to take a long hot shower,”

“Okay, you want something to drink.”

“Maybe after I’m done.”

Blaine smiled even though a single, awful word echoed in his head. Walking toward the on suite, Blaine laid a finger on the top of Kurt’s makeup table next to the door. The marble-topped metal table followed them from Lima after their wedding, like a valuable trophy. Pausing, he ran the same finger over its smooth surface, thinking about what Doctor Donaldson told him. So many small signs had gone unnoticed.

His phone vibrated in his pocket just shortly after he started to unbutton his pants. Fear flashed across Blaine’s face, and for a moment, he wondered if he should have said no. Swallowing a dry throat, he glanced at the text and put the phone down on the bathroom counter.

“Blaine?” Kurt’s called from the bedroom door.

“I’m in the bathroom, stripping the makeup off.” Blaine’s heart felt heavy.

“You? Makeup?”

“Creams for days.”

“Hah, hah.”

“I’m not getting any younger. God’s the bags under my eyes.”

“You want me to scrub your bags,” Kurt said as he pulled off his sweater off and folded it. Just as he reached for the buttons of his shirt, someone loudly rapped on the front door.

“What was that?”

“Someone’s at the door.”

The person knocked harder, and Blaine looked down at his toes with a frown.

“I hope it’s not the neighbours again about the damned paint in the halls.” Kurt sounded put out and a bit closer.

“If it is, turn them away.”

“Yeah, why don’t you do it?”

“Kurt, I’m naked.”

“Bugger.”

“Kurt, just answer the door,” Blaine called back from the bathroom. Turning the water on, he dropped his underwear and kicked them onto the bedroom floor.

Kurt muttered under his breath as he stormed down the hall.

Wearing only his skin, Blaine softly padded over to the bedroom door so he could hear. The person knocked for the third time and then his husband’s high-pitched voice rose in surprise. With a sigh of relief, Blaine imagined Kurt throwing himself into his father’s waiting arms.

“What are you doing here?” Blaine heard Kurt emotionally ask.

Burt cheerfully replied, “Can’t I see my son from time to time.”

“You should have phoned?” Kurt complained.

“And ruin the fun? Remember, you sent me a set.” The sound of jingling of keys played over Burt’s voice. “Are we just going to stand here or are you going to let me in?”

“Oh, right, yes, dad, come in. You planning on staying?”

“You going to kick your old man out already?”

“No, no.”

“I wanted to see what you’ve done to the place my hard-earned money helped you buy?”

“It’s comfortable,” Kurt stated, and Blaine smiled with the sense of relief rolled down his back.

“For that kind of cash, it should be more than comfortable, my boy,” Burt replied.

“Dad, it’s so good to see you.”

“It was a hellish flight from Washington, and I could use a coffee. I had to sit beside the boorish representative from New England.”

“Such is the life of a politician. How’s Carole?”

“She’s good and sends her love. Her pet project has her all tied up.”

“She’s still on that kick?”

“Yup, dog walker extraordinaire.”

Kurt snickered. “Put that thing down and let me show you around. We still have some things to do and get, but we’re happy.”

Through the crack it the door, Blaine watched his peacock of a husband proudly led his father into the living room. The tension slowly built all afternoon, and now that his stomach settled, a happy grin stretched his lips.

Trailing behind his son, Burt commented, “Are you two going minimal? It’s a little sparse, and the paintings are different.”

“You like them?” Kurt indicated one of them with a broad sweep of the arm.

“Well, sort of, I guess. To be honest, I like something a little more traditional.” Burt walked over to the piano and stared at the piles of paper.

Protectively stepping forward, Kurt said, “His movie score.”

Burt nodded as he glanced at the boxed books and discs. “The room needs a few things.”

“I have all sorts of plans.”

“What about Blaine’s plans?”

“He’ll see it my way.”

“Well, he got a piano, so I guess that will appease him. Where is he by the way?”

“In the shower.”

Burt’s eyebrows went up as they circled into the dining room. “Needs a couple of nice china cabinets.”

“You offering dad?” Kurt ran his hand across the back of a chair.

Giving his son a look, Burt shook his head. “Maybe for your twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.”

“You’ll have to buy one for Santana and Brittany as well.”

“No, I don’t. So, where’s that coffee.”

Father and son passed from Blaine’s view, and their voices faded into murmurs and then Kurt’s voice jumped an octave as he yelled, “Fuck! Blaine, called you?”

“Kurt?” Burt’s warning tone carried down the hall.

“Blaine!” Kurt called out.

The sight of Kurt charging into the hall, made Blaine cringe. Then Burt's hand reached out from behind his son and felt on a shoulder. Kurt looked angry as he turned to face his father. With practiced calm, Burt said, “Why shouldn’t Blaine have called me. You didn’t.”

Kurt huffed, “Dad?”

Giving his son a look, Burt’s responded, “Blaine’s more than just a little concerned and, so am I?”

Kurt’s face grew harder and then he glanced down the hall.

A single step back from the door did not enervate Blaine’s worry. Luckily, Burt came to his son-in-law’s defence by saying, “Don’t act like six-year-old. You’re not a kid anymore, and we’re not having a conversation about sex. We’re talking about my son who has been through . . . well . . . stuff I have trouble fathoming.”

Making a face, Kurt said, “I’m fine, dad.”

“I’m not some person sitting in an audience watching a play, either,” Burt stood up straight, and his eyes turned to Blaine gazing through the crack of a slightly open door. “I still know you better than your husband, and I have only one child. You might have just pressed the big three O, but you’re still my little boy.”

Kurt threw himself at his father and pressed his head into his father’s thick torso. “Dad . . . I am not alright.”

“And that’s why I’m here.” Burt caressed his son’s back, giving Blaine a weak smile. “And you, just don’t stand there, showing me more than I wish to see.”

Thank god for the darkness of the bedroom because Burt could not see the blush rush up Blaine's neck. The door shut, and Blaine quickly threw himself in the shower. A few moments later, he walked into the kitchen with a mop of curly hair bloomed up from his head like steel wool.

Giving his husband a sideways look, Kurt suddenly shook his head. “You f . . . little bugger.”

“I enjoy buggering you.” Blaine winked at his husband, and the f got washed away into the angst of the day.

“Hey, I don’t need to know the rest.” Burt shook his head with a tiny grin and drew Blaine drawing into a loving hug.

Curly hair pushed into the other man’s shoulder as Blaine leaned into the embrace. When he unwrapped himself from Burt, Blaine said to his husband in a soft tone, “Go talk to your dad.”

Stormy blue eyes glared at his husband, and then he took Blaine’s hands. “You’re a dear man, but I really—”

Burt caught the look on Blaine’s face and drew the two boys into a hug by swapping his arms about their shoulders. Blaine smiled while Kurt’s face produced one of that ‘I don’t know what to think’ grin.

Laying his head against his son, Burt said, “Kiddo, it was my idea to come. Blaine only found out when I texted after landing. If you are going to be angry with someone, don’t take it out on him.”

“Dad?” Kurt’s chest tightened as he pulled away, breaking the group hug up.

Giving his son the famous father looks, Burt said, “Are we going to play games?”

Kurt looked down at the floor, and his stomach rolled. “No.”

Patting his son on the shoulder, Burt asked, “Now, what about that coffee?”

“Right away, oh, great father-in-law,” Blaine mused as he purposely bowed. The levity boosted flagging spirits relieving much of the day’s uncertainty.

Shaking his head, Kurt leaned and seductively whispering, “I love you, Blaine.”

The manner in which his partner presented himself sent a pleasant shiver up Blaine’s back. Slanting into his husband with a soft one-sided smile, Blaine laid a hand on Kurt’s cheek. “I love you too.”

Clearing his throat, Burt awkwardly commented, “Not my house, not my rules.”

Kurt’s face flushed red, and he turned to his father, who started to laugh.

“Come along, dad. We’ve been banished from the kitchen.” Kurt grabbed Burt’s arm and pushed him into the dining room. He looked back quickly, “Oh, darling, don’t forget some cookies.”

“Whatever my master decrees.” Blaine winked.

“You two are so good to one another,” Burt said to his son as he skipped ahead.

“I really do love him dad, but at times he can be so . . . bloody irritating,” Kurt whispered as he glanced back over his shoulder.

Stroking his son’s shoulder, Burt softly replied, “If those we loved didn’t irritate us from time to time, then I would be worried.”

“Did mom bother you?”

“We argued like cats and dogs sometimes.”

“I miss her.”

“So do I.”

Kurt stopped and looked at his dad. “I thought she was with me the other night.”

Coming to an abrupt halt, Burt looked to his son with sorrow in his eyes.

“Sorry, Dad,” Kurt sat in the middle of the couch and glanced longingly back to the kitchen. “I’ll tell you everything, but let’s wait for Blaine.”

Burt regarded his son for a moment and then sat in one of the high-backed chairs. Leaning back, he commented, “I’ve never heard him so upset.”

“I scared him. I scared myself.”

“It frightened me. We didn’t get into details, but the way he struggled told me enough.”

The two sat there, surrounded by awkward silence for a few long moments. Burt watched his son just sit there with an apprehensive look on his face. Finally, his son leaned closer, placing a hand on his father’s. “Dad, I will not lie to you. It wasn’t pleasant. My poor Blaine . . . god’s what he thought?”

“You terrified me, my love.” Blaine’s voice shook as he placed a tray with coffee, cream, sugar and cookies on the low table in front of the couch. “Burt, I can tell you it’s not been a walk in the park. There’s been times when . . . well . . . it’s been tough.”

“I’m sorry I frightened you, but—” Kurt fell silent, and he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath,

Even though he had just showered, the back of Blaine’s shirt stuck to his skin. Hesitantly, he glanced away, shutting his eyes. Terror smashed into an already pounding heart, and for a second, he felt faint. Lifting a foot up onto the couch, he pressed against the cushion. Then, as if he needed the comfort, he Instinctively engulfed Kurt in his arms and pulled him back until Kurt’s back rested against his chest.

The anxiety emanating Blaine mirrored Kurt’s discomfort. A shiver ran down his back as he looked down the floor before he glanced at his father. In a deep tone, Kurt blurted out the words before he could change his mind. “Dad, I found some pills.”

Honey brown eyes slammed shut, and Blaine rested his head against his husband. The quaking of his lover’s body alerted Blaine he needed to do something. Softly kissing the side of Kurt’s neck, Blaine felt his husband instantly relax. However, Blaine had no desire to hear it all over again, even though he must. The doctor said, the more they talked about it, the easier it would become. The concern in his heart left Blaine feeling squeezed.

“Blaine?” Burt laid a hand on his son-in-law’s shoulder. Twice now, a father faced the issue of his son’s stability and, in this instance, Burt could not suggest joining a football team.

“Dad, Blaine, I couldn’t.” Kurt’s face paled, and he tried to sit up, but Blaine would not let him. Lying back, Kurt appreciated his partner’s stubbornness. In a quiet voice, Kurt added, “When I thought of this dear, dear man and our children . . . I couldn’t.”

Burt glanced away toward the fireplace, and his head went up. Teary-eyed, Burt quietly asked, “Did you seek help at that time?”

“I shut down.” Kurt’s words almost got lost in his mumbling.

Burt’s eyes fell on the man behind his son. “Blaine?”

Unable to find the words, Blaine closed his eyes as his head slid down Kurt’s shoulder.

“He . . . didn’t know.” Kurt choked on his words as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Grief washed across Burt’s face, and he remained silent for a long moment. Eventually, he asked, “And the other night.”

“I felt great in the beginning.” Kurt glanced out the window. “Sam was coming over and surprised us with a new girlfriend. Everything went fine until I . . . freaked.”

Blaine tensed up and sniffed.

Embracing his partner’s hand pressed against his stomach, Kurt said, “It wasn’t her?”

“What do you mean?” Burt questioned. His brow constricted.

“Lui spooked me. I stooped down to pick up a cork, and when I came up, she was there inches from my face.” Kurt paused and closed his eyes, pressing his fingers tightly into his husband’s. “At that moment, he stood there.”

“Chandler?” Burt leaned forward and picked a mug of coffee.

A hesitant shudder rocked Kurt, and then he asked himself, “How, do I?”

“Slowly and with thought,” Blaine pleaded just loud enough for Burt to hear. His voice quivered.

Silence prevailed for a little while and then Kurt sighed. With a quaking voice, Kurt stated, “This sounds weird, but her eyes changed, and then I felt suddenly heavy and the room tilted.”

Burt kept his eyes on his son as the coffee cup slid from his lips. “Did she say or do anything?”

“She snorted cocaine in the bathroom.” Blaine’s sounded angry.

Burt just sat there as his face turned sour. “Where were the children?”

Both men’s heads awkwardly came up. Blaine answered, “They were with Jesse in their room playing.”

Burt gravely nodded and sat back again. Lifting his coffee, he pursed his lips and then drank.

“This is hard . . . enough without having to try to explain what happened to the twins.” Kurt admitted.

“I can see that.” Burt stared at his coffee.

“Dad, having you here is—” Kurt stopped himself as tears filled his eye. The growing wet spot in the center of his shirt pressed into the man behind him.

Burt swallowed a large draft of coffee and then leaned his chin against the rim of the mug. Narrow eyes lingered on his son as he rocked his head from side to side. “If I’m hearing this right, she just happened to be a little too close, and it set you off.”

“Really, she did nothing?”

“Really?”

“Okay, she played footsie with me under the table?”

“She what?” Blaine exclaimed.

A hand fell on Blaine’s arm, and Burt asked his son, “Did you do anything to encourage her?”

“Burt?” Blaine loudly objected. He pushed forward, but Kurt’s weight against him held him fast.

“Sorry, Blaine.” Burt squeezed the arm he held. “I’m being clinical. It’s a nasty trait I picked up in Washington.”

Beads of moisture ran down Blaine’s back as he looked away from his father-in-law with a scowl.

Kurt made sure he pressed his fingers tighter with his husband’s. “She had nothing to do with it.”

“But the drugs?” Blaine’s heart rate rose.

“While I don’t approve, I agree with my son.” Burt gave the two men a critical gaze. “She had nothing to do with it other than playing silly games.”

“Burt, those games—” Blaine's voice cracked. Tired and not prepared for hours of cross-examination, he found it hard to control his emotions. His head fell back on the couch, and he drew in a long, shaky breath.

Recognizing his husband’s increasing apprehension, Kurt inclined his head so that it rested next to his husband’s head. In a soft, shaky tone, he said, “Blaine, maybe her flirting triggered it, but I don’t honestly know. All I know for certain is my mind shifted, and it all tumbled in on me. The worst of it wasn’t reliving it . . . but the fear.”

Pulling his lips together, Burt watched the two men collect themselves. His eyes strayed around the room as the moments passed at an agonizingly slow pace.

Caressing Blaine’s arm, Kurt finally broke the awkward silence. “Dad, Doctor Donaldson wants me to undergo hypnotherapy.”

“I don’t like it.” Blaine’s head came up, and teary eyes stared at Burt.

“Dad, I have no illusion this will be hard.” Kurt’s voice trailed off for a moment as the presses his hand down onto Blaine’s thigh. “I am anxious, but more so for Blaine. He’s proven to me how much he cares and loves me but . . . this may . . . Oh, gods, I am just so lucky to have a wonderful man to hold my hand.”

“You have to understand, Burt,” Blaine said with full conviction as he lightly hugged his husband, “I would never be able to forgive myself if I didn’t stand by your son. When we saw the doctor today, I talked about my fears concerning her suggestion. However, Kurt has the final say, and I’ll be with him no matter what he decides.”

Burt did not hesitate and responded, “And I’ll be there with both of you.”

“Dad?” Kurt raised a hand as if he wanted to sit up, but Blaine held fast.

Ignoring the objection, Burt nodded his head and leaned forward. “Blaine, what do you need?”

A shocked look arched across Blaine’s face.

Looking crossed, Kurt stared at his father. “You’re avoiding the issue.”

“Yes, because it’s not up for debate.” Burt looked determined.

“Dad?” Kurt almost growled. “There are a lot of things to consider, and some of it is not pretty.”

“You think I don’t know that, kiddo?” Burt’s eyes shifted to his son-in-law. “Blaine is going to need support as well or are you dumping all this on Rachel, who, I suspect, will have her hands full with three kids, Jesse and her career.”

Puffing himself up Kurt, objected, “Dad, this—”

“It’s perfectly fair, Kurt. Poor Blaine looks like he’s going to have a heart attack.” Burt angrily stated. “Let’s not argue about this. You might be the victim in this, but he’s suffering as well.”

His father’s words came as a slap in the face. All the lingering haze and constantly doubting himself coloured his vision, and now Kurt realized he missed a lot. This afternoon Blaine exposed his feelings of failure and now Kurt rebuked himself for giving his dear husband’s sentiments little more than lip service. Heaving a large breath, the turned ever so slightly so he could see his husband in the corner of his eye.

“It’s alright, Kurt,” Blaine whispered, stroking Kurt’s arm.

“Blaine?” Kurt challenged.

Blaine’s head fell back, stretching his neck. Staring up at the ceiling, he had to admit the truth to himself finally. “Kurt, I’m trying, but I really have no idea what I’m doing.”

Fingers dug into Blaine’s arm, and Kurt bowed his head. With a huge sigh, he grinned at his father and said, “Okay, dad, I get it. However, there’s no me, just us.”

“Well, that’s a first,” Burt mused, and then the congressman inhaled before looking to his son-in-law. “Blaine, have you talked to your mother about what you’re feeling?”

The young man gagged on the intake of air and coughed. The fear of revealing his deepest emotions of his mother swirled like water going down the drain. Sheepishly, he glanced away and then quietly said, “No, sir.”

“I really think Pam deserves to know.” Burt picked up a chewy oatmeal raisin cookie. “She knows more than you think, and she’s worried.”

“I guess, you’re right,” Blaine admitted as his face turned red with shame.

“Good,” Burt switched to his son as he sat back.

Kurt nodded his agreement, even as he dealt with his demons. “Maybe it is all in my head. Maybe it's myself pulling—”

“You do not need to explain?” Blaine interrupted, glaring at his father-in-law. He did not like being forced.

Pushing his head into his lover, Kurt softly replied, “Yes, I do. We talked about honesty. I need to be honest. Dad, I’m terrified of being alone. Doctor Donaldson says it will take some time and sessions to overcome it.”

Suddenly, Burt raised his finger as if to point it and then let it fall. In a compassionate tone, he asked, “Blaine, you’re going to London soon?”

“In three weeks,” Blaine sounded sad.

The right cheek pushed out as if Burt ran his tongue along the inside. Regarding his son for a second, he asked, “And you?”

The tone of Kurt’s skin faded. “My Fair Fellow is doing well. Our understudies are covering for us this week, but that can’t go on forever.”

Two husbands gazed at the older man as he considered things and Blaine said, “One of us has to stay to oversee things. With everything happening, we’re at a pivotal point where it can all flounder. I’m going back this weekend until I leave. I hope Kurt will join me, but I am not going to press the issue. With all the press that we received, the critics are being hard on us, but it’s the audience that matters. We’ve already announced I will be out of town on another project but . . . You don’t want to hear this.”

“The timing sucks.” Burt wiggled his nose, and then commented, “I can’t get away from Washington, but Carole might enjoy walking the twins in the park. Maybe, Pam would like to visit or Cooper?”

“Dad?” Kurt blurt out while Blaine gave his father-in-law a thankful look.

“I can’t believe you have still not learned that family helps one another.” Sitting forward, Burt glanced at the two men as his head tilted to one side. “So, this is what we are going to do. First, go shower, again, and put a decent suit on. Two, I’m taking the two of you out for a nice quiet swanky dinner. Three, we will not talk about this for the rest of the evening. Four, I want to see my grandchildren.”


	28. London Part 1

November 4, 2025 - Greenwich Mean Time

KAH 3:04 PM: Hey Blaine, I hope your first day in London is being good to you. ♥♥♥

BAH 3:17 PM: It’s been a long day and I misssssssss you sooooooooooo much. Hate overnight flights when I have no one to cuddle up with — got in at 10. It took forever to get through customs and find my luggage. Thank god, the driver was there.

BAH 3:18 PM: Judith says hello. I had lunch with her. She looks good, but she tells me David is not too good.

BAH 3:18 PM: I’m having dinner with Ang tonight.

BAH 3:19 PM: Recording begins tomorrow.

KAH 3:26 PM: Sorry, Carole says hello. We’re taking the kids to the park. Give Judith my best, and I hope David feels better soon.

BAH 3:27 PM: How are you doing?

KAH 3:28 PM: I miss you.

BAH 3:29 PM: I miss you too. I slept on the plane…sort of.

KAH 3:30 PM: I barely slept.

KAH 3:31 PM: Your side of the bed feels so empty.

BAH 3:33 PM: I should have stayed.

KAH 3:36 PM: Blaine. NO.

BAH 3:30 PM: Kurt?

KAH 3:31 PM: I have my arm pillow. He’s not as warm as you, but he makes me feel loved.

BAH 3:33 PM: I feel terrible.

KAH 3:34 PM: You’re wonderful, and I need to do this.

BAH 3:35 PM: The hotel is nice, It’s right across from Hyde Park, but I’m…miserable.

KAH 3:36 PM: Don’t be Blaine. I’m a little freaked, but Carole’s here.

BAH 3:36 PM: Kurt…thank you for being honest. Just remember, I love you.

KAH 3:36 PM: I love you too, Blaine, more than you can imagine.

KAH 3:37 PM: Carole’s calling me. Time to go.

BAH 3:38 PM: Kisses, my love.

KAH 3:39 PM: Kisses right back at you. Will text when I get back. Love you.

***

November 5, 2025 - Greenwich Mean Time

BAH 6:11 AM: Didn’t really sleep. The big soft bed is missing something.

BAH 6:57 AM: Breakfast alone in my room. Miss you.

BAH 7:17 AM: I thought New York was busy…wow…London rush hour, what a mess.

BAH 7:26 AM: Passed Buckingham Palace. It would make a charming summer retreat…LOLO

BAH 7:32 AM: I know you’re still asleep. Dreamed of you.

BAH 7:59 AM: My god, the Royal Festival Hall. This place is magnificent. Wish you were here. Sending pics.

BAH 8:33 AM: What a nuthouse. The orchestra is arriving. People all over the place setting up stuff.

BAH 8:48 AM: Ang wants to talk to me. I guess we’re getting started. I’m scared and wish you were here.

KAH 1:37 PM: Hold in there love.

KAH 1:38 PM: I know you. When it gets going, you will be so excited you will forget about me.

BAH 1:51 PM: Never. ♥♥♥

KAH 1:51 PM: How goes?

BAH 1:52 PM: Busy. Been practicing with the associate conductor. She’s a bit of a workhorse, but god, she knows her stuff.

KAH 1:53 PM: Wow, the London Philharmonic. A dream come true. Any of them cute?

BAH 1:54 PM: Kurt?

KAH 1:56 PM: Come off it, Blaine, live a little.

BAH 1:59 PM: Okay…the kettle drummer is a dreamboat.

BAH 1:59 PM: He sort of looks like someone I love.

KAH 2:01 PM: See you’ll be fine.

BAH 2:02 PM: I’d rather have the adorable original. I’m having dinner with Judith and some of her friends tonight.

KAH 2:04 PM: Say hello to her, my favourite conductor with a big stick.

BAH 2:05 PM: You can drum my kettle any time…

BAH 2:07 PM: Time to go. They want to do another sound check. Be strong, my love. I miss you. ♥♥♥

BAH 2:08 PM: You try and have some fun. Miss you too. ♥♥♥

***

November 6, 2025 - Greenwich Mean Time

BAH 2:56 PM: You make me blush. ☺☺☺

KAH 2:57 PM: You naked?

BAH 2:58 PM: Kurt?

KAH 2:58 PM: I am. You want a picture.

BAH 2:58 PM: Oh my. ☺☺☺

KAH 2:59 PM: I’m thinking of you.

BAH 2:59 PM: How?

KAH 3:00 PM: You’re doing what you did down by the river in high school.

BAH 3:01 PM: Oh my…are you?

KAH 3:02 PM: Yes.

BAH 3:03 PM: Damn. Have to go, they got the projector fixed.

BAH 3:04 PM: You’ve made my day, and my pants stretch. Dear, dear man…how I love you. ♥♥♥

KAH 3:06 PM: I love you too, my sweet Warbler. ♥♥♥

***

November 7, 2025 - Greenwich Mean Time

BAH 10:09 AM: Hey lover boy…how’s tricks?”

BAH 10:11 AM: You there, Kurt?

BAH 10:14 AM: I guess you’re busy. Say hello to him?

KAH 12:43 PM: Ha, ha, Alexander says hi.

KAH 12:46 AM: Went to see Julia. Alex got in a fight.

KAH 12:47 AM: Nothing too bad.

BAH 3:22 PM: Is he alright? Say hi back to both of my darlings.

KAH 4:06 PM: He got his dignity scratched.

BAH 11:17 PM: Had dinner with Ang and the editors.

KAH 11:18 PM: Hey, this will be short. We’re going to take the children for a walk and then ice cream.

BAH 11:19 PM: Hug them for me.

KAH 11:20 PM: Will do. You sleeping better?

BAH 11:23 PM: A bit. I wish I brought your arm pillow.

KAH 11:24 PM: He’s keeping me warm at night.

BAH 11:25 PM: Be gentle with the pillow. He misses you. ♥♥♥

KAH 11:27 PM: I would rather have your warm arms around me. Take care my love. ♥♥♥

***

November 8, 2025 - Greenwich Mean Time

KAH 9:22 AM: Hey, Blaine. I couldn’t sleep. Thought I would bug you for a few.

KAH 9:31 AM: The book I’m reading is soooooooooo boring.

KAH 9:35 AM: Blah, blah, blah, blah.

KAH 10:54 AM: Yeah, right. Bored. I think I will call Rachel and bug her.

KAH 11:09 AM: I woke her, and now the baby is kicking up a storm. I’m so dead.

KAH 12:07 PM: Your mom arrives about three.

KAH 12:08 PM: Burt’s coming in. He’s taking us for dinner and then a show. Rachel and Jesse are joining us.

KAH 12:11 PM: Kate wants to know if you are bringing Prince George back for her. What a cutie, but too old for her.

KAH 12:14 PM: Alex wants you to bring home a taxi? Are you sure he’s our son? One of the palace guards I can understand.

KAH 1:41 PM: Took a nap. I’ve found lying on your side makes it easier. Sarah says I am doing much better. I told her I miss you terribly, and in her quirky way, the doc shrugged and said, “That happens when you’re in love.” I guess it’s true then.

KAH 1:52 AM: Guess you’re busy. Saturday in London. Off at some museum or just haven’t gotten home from pubbing yet. Text when you think of me. Miss you….kisses from all of us colonials.

BAH 7:02 PM: No late night ticking here. Gave that up in high school when I realized I loved some goofball kid with a squeaky voice.

BAH 7:04 PM: Driving back from the hall. Everything seemed to go wrong today. Had to rewrite an entire section because the music director decided it was all wrong in the afternoon when he loved it in the morning.

BAH 7:05 PM: I love it, though. It’s busy and fun.

BAH 7:08 PM: Will be arriving at the hotel soon. Got time for a shower, and then Judith is taking me to a charity event at the royal opera. It’s rumoured Kate, William and Kate will be there.

BAH 7:10 PM: Thought of you lots today. Being away from you is hell, but good at the same time. I find myself thinking of us through the Hyde Park holding hands in the rain under the lights. It’s across the street. We’re so much a couple.

BAH 7:14 PM: I was sitting alone at lunch today, remembering what I felt after…well…when you first went to New York.

BAH 7:15 PM: I sort of feel like that now. I missed you so much.

BAH 7:21 PM: Ah, the hotel. Have to go. Have fun at dinner tonight. Kiss my mom for me.

BAH 7:27 PM: Oh…thought the young bellhop would fill in for you.

BAH 7:28 PM: Ha, ha. NOT! Damn…I’m crying. Love you so, so, so much

***

November 9, 2025 - Greenwich Mean Time

KAH 9:18 AM: Honk!

BAH 9:53 AM: Honk?

KAH 5:14 PM: We’re two ships passing in the night.

BAH 5:48 PM: Well, pull up sailor and park awhile.

KAH 5:56 PM: You like seaman?

BAH 5:57 PM: Oh, yeah.

KAH 5:58 PM: This one has a loud for you.

BAH 5:59 PM: Really?????

KAH 5:59 PM: Saving up.

BAH 6:02 PM: Oh, my.

BAH 6:03 PM: How’s the performances?

KAH 6:04 PM: Great though attendance is down a bit. I think the audience likes it better when we’re both there.

BAH 6:05 PM: I like it when we are both there. I hope you are not pushing it.

KAH 6:08 PM: Being separated from you has forced me to think about the whole…whore…thing.

BAH 6:09 PM: Kurt, no.

KAH 6:10 PM: Blaine, I’ve been…I feel…

BAH 6:11 PM: Kurt, is my mother or Carole there?

KAH 6:12 PM: It’s not…what was.

KAH 6:12 PM: Sorry.

BAH 6:13 PM: You alright?

BAH 6:13 PM: Kurt?

BAH 6:16 PM: Kurt! For fuck’s sake.

BAH 6:17 PM: Kurt?

BAH 6:21 PM: Damn it, Kurt?

BAH 6:24 PM: Answer, please.

BAH 6:26 PM: Kurt.

KAH 6:33 PM: Blaine, it’s…I think I have better find Carole.

BAH 6:34 PM: I’ll come home.

KAH 6:35 PM: Don’t you dare!

BAH 6:36 PM: My precious?

BAH 6:41 PM: Kurt?

BAH 6:42 PM: Kurt?

KAH 6:46 PM: Blaine, this is your mom.

BAH 6:47 PM: Mom? Is he alright? What happened? Can I speak to him?

KAH 6:50 PM: He’ll be fine, dear and in good hands. Don’t worry.

BAH 6:51 PM: Mom, I feel awful.

KAH 6:53 PM: You stay strong and don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen. And don’t cry.

BAH 6:54 PM: Too late.

BAH 6:54 PM: What happened?

KAH 6:55 PM: He’s a little overwhelmed.

BAH 6:57 PM: Mom? Tell me?

KAH 6:58 PM: He’s with Carole and Burt. Don’t worry.

BAH 6:59 PM: I’m booking a flight.

KAH 7:01 PM: Blaine, listen to me. I know this is hard, but everything’s good.

BAH 7:02 PM: I don’t like this.

KAH 7:04 PM: Blaine, even if you can get a flight, you won’t be here until tomorrow morning at the earliest.

BAH 7:04 PM: Mom?

KAH 7:05 PM: Blaine, you knew this could happen with all that hypnosis stuff. Let Kurt do what he must.

BAH 7:06 PM: Mom, it’s killing me.

KAH 7:07 PM: Blow your nose and call your friend.

BAH 7:11 PM: Mom, yeah, you’re right, but…I’ll call Judith.

KAH 7:13 PM: Good. I have to go. Don’t worry, too much.

BAH 7:14 PM: Yes, mom. Kiss him for me.

***

November 13, 2025 – Greenwich Mean Time

KAH 3:22 PM: Blaine?

KAH 3:23 PM: You about?

KAH 3:38 PM: I know Carole and Pam kept you in the loop. I’m out now.

KAH 3:47 PM: Text me, please, baby. I miss you. ♥♥♥

BAH 7:27 PM: My god, Kurt. I’ve been so worried. ♥♥♥ ☺☺☺♥♥♥

KAH 7:35 PM: Blaine? It’s you. Nodded off. I’ve been sitting on this thing waiting.

BAH 7:36 PM: Sorry, my love. ♥♥♥ How are you?

KAH 7:37 PM: Feeling stupid.

BAH 7:38 PM: Kurt, it’s so good to hear from you.

KAH 7:39 PM: Ditto. I know we said we would not, but can we skype.

BAH 7:40 PM: Let me get my tablet jump started.

Throwing himself down onto a plush bed, Blaine rushed to get the idiotic thing powered up. Frustrated, by its slowness, he drew in a deep breath and tapped his fingers on the nightstand. The heart pounding in his chest made him vibrate.

BAH 7:46 PM: Fuck. Windows forced an update.

KAH 7:47 PM: Patience.

BAH 7:48 PM: Damn it, I’m so horny.

KAH 7:49 PM: Has your right hand has been unfaithful?

BAH 7:50 PM: And you’re saying you haven’t pulled your tool.

KAH 7:51 PM: Blaine, the kids are reading this.

BAH 7:52 PM: What?

BAH 7:53 PM: Just kidding, I have you all to myself. Carole’s in the living room, and Pam took the kids to Rachel’s. They’re going to see the latest Disney movie.

BAH 7:54 PM: I’m not going to type what I said.

KAH 7:55 PM: I hope it was dirty?

BAH 7:56 PM: Quite the opposite.

BAH 7:58 PM: Now, I’m laughing and wanting to throw that damned machine through the fucking window.

KAH 7:59 PM: I’m not going anywhere, Blaine. I can’t wait to see that look on your face.

BAH 8:00 PM: Me too.

KAH 8:01 PM: How are you feeling?

BAH 8:02 PM: Great now…Damned thing’s finally booting up.

KAH 8:03 PM: I feel so dumb.

BAH 8:03 PM: Don’t sweat it.

BAH 8:05 PM: Here we go skype’s loading.

KAH 8:06 PM: About time, I was getting the impression you didn’t want to see me.

BAH 8:06 PM: Never.

BAH 8:07 PM: Hurry up, damn it.

KAH 8:08 PM: Darling, take a breath.

BAH 8:10 PM: Finally.

A long list of people popped up, and in an instant, three people pinged him. Scrolling down to find SmittenWarbler, he tapped on it and ignored the interlopers. It had only been a few days, but it felt like a lifetime and heat crawled up his neck with anticipation and desire. Last night he found himself going through pictures of them from school and found it hard to believe they once looked so young. Age and hard times created lines in places he did not expect for at least a decade. Thankfully he had not found any gray hairs yet, and god forbid when Kurt did.

Without warning, the video chat function began to sing at Blaine. A finger smashed into the red phone symbol and he scrolled down ignoring the annoying pings until he found SmittenWarbler. A small grin pulled the right side of his face and he pressed his finger to the video chat icon. The sound played for a brief second and then the cutest smile filled the screen. His heart jumped, and Blaine could not stop himself from smiling. It felt as if he had not stared into those magnificent blue eyes for the years, and he loved every second.

“You’re crying?” Kurt whispered, with a beaming grin on his handsome face. Tilting his head to one side, and he reached up as if intended to wipe the wetness from those adorable wet, puppy eyes.

The palm of his right hand came up and pressed lightly against his eye, spreading the moisture welling there. The look his husband gave him melted his heart right down to the soles of his feet. The sight of the headboard told him Kurt lay propped up on their bed, and the dim light said he had only lamp on. Desire to set his lips to Kurt’s pulled Blaine’s face closer to the screen.

“My, you’re so handsome.” A finger slid under Kurt’s right eye, wicking away the tear.

Unable to do anything but beam, Blaine sat there for a long moment staring. Proceeded by a small air kiss, he purred, “And, you’re a sight for sore eyes. How are you?”

“Better for seeing you. Before you say it, I’m good. You want to see it.”

“Was it bad?”

Kurt moved his tablet, and a messy duvet came into view as the image jumped all about until it revealed an odd angle of a foot propped up in by two pillows. Set in a firm binding designed for walking, the man wiggled his toes. “There you go, the prize for my stupidity.”

“Oh, my poor baby,” Blaine pouted.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Kurt slowly rolled his knee so that the foot moved. “Would feel better if you kissed my toes.”

Blaine laughed and then Kurt’s grinning face returned to the screen. Blaine’s tongue racked his lips and, as said in low tones, “Wait until I get home.”

“That will make it all worth it.” Kurt winked.

“Did you really slip on milk?”

“Yup. Flew up ass over tea kettle.”

“Can’t leave you for a second.”

“Try three weeks.” Kurt’s smile spread his lips wider than usual. “I thought I broke it, but it’s only a sprain.”

“I guess this means I get to dance with hunky Kenneth,” Blaine smirked.

“Na, you’re stuck with me on stage.”

“I would like to be stuck with you in some other position right now.”

“Naughty boy. Everyone here is good. Carole and your mother have been gems.”

“And the kids?”

“They’re kids. Nothing seems to bug them, but they do miss you.”

“I miss them too. I wish they were home.”

“Not a chance. I’m going to be selfish and keep you all to myself. I have so much I want to say.”

“Can it wait until I get home?”

“Sort of, I guess, but we should talk about the other night.”

The look on Blaine’s face suddenly changed.

Shifting on the bed, Kurt looked perplexed. “What?”

Holding up his hand, Blaine began to sing.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0zDPw_IvDs)

_Who’s around when the days feel long_   
_Who’s around when you can’t be strong_   
_Who’s around when you’re losing your mind_

Kurt’s head fell back into the pillow as a warm smile exploded on his face. With little effort, he joined in just as he had that night at Rachel’s before Blaine planted an unsuspecting and alluring kiss on him.

_Who cares that you get home safe_   
_Who knows you can’t be replaced_   
_Who thinks that you’re one of a kind_

Splaying his fingers out wide on the screen, Blaine beamed when Kurt’s hand match his. In his heart, he felt flesh meet flesh and their hearts pumped as one.

_[Kurt and Blaine:]_   
_Somebody misses you when you’re away_   
_They wanna wake up with you everyday_   
_Somebody wants to hear you say_   
_Ooh somebody loves you_   
_Ooh somebody loves you_   
_Ooh somebody loves you_   
_Ooh somebody loves you_   
_Ooh somebody loves you_

_[Blaine:] I’m around when your head is heavy_   
_[Kurt:] I’m around when your hands aren’t steady_   
_[Kurt and Blaine:] I’m around when your day’s gone all wrong_   
_I care that you feel at home_   
_[Blaine:] Cause I know that you feel alone ([Kurt:] You feel alone)_   
_[Blaine:] I think you’re going to miss me when I’m gone ([Kurt:] You're gonna miss m when I'm gone)_

_[Kurt and Blaine:]_   
_Somebody misses you when you’re away_   
_They wanna wake up with you everyday_   
_Somebody wants to hear you say_   
_Ooh somebody loves you_   
_Ooh somebody loves you_   
_Ooh somebody loves you_   
_Ooh somebody loves you_   
_Ooh somebody loves you_

_[Kurt and Blaine:] Why don’t you come on over_   
_[Blaine:] Why don’t you lay me down ([Kurt:] Lay me Down)_   
_Does the pain feel better_   
_When I’m around_   
_If I am good to you_   
_[Blaine:] Won’t you be good to me ([Kurt:] Good to me)_   
_That’s how easy this should be_

_[Kurt:] Somebody misses you when you’re away ([Blaine:] Somebody misses you baby)_   
_[Kurt:] They wanna wake up with you everyday ([Blaine:] They wanna wake up with you)_   
_[Kurt:] Somebody wants to hear you say ([Blaine:] Oh they want you to say)_   
_[Kurt and Blaine:]_   
_Ooh somebody loves you_   
_Ooh somebody loves you_   
_Ooh somebody loves you_   
_Ooh somebody loves you_   
_Ooh somebody loves you_


	29. London Part 2

November 15, 2025 - Greenwich Mean Time

LimaYodeler 2:27 PM: Hey, Blaine.

BAH 3:44 PM: Sam! How are you?

LimaYodeler 3:56 PM: I’m good, Blaine. And you?”

BAH 4:02 PM: I’m in London working on the movie. You?”

LimaYodeler 4:03 PM: Boring old Lima moping between classes. Was thinking about you?

BAH 4:06 PM: I’ve been thinking of you too.

LimaYodeler 4:07 PM: You still mad at me?

BAH 4:08 PM: I was never mad at you, Sam.

LimaYodeler 4:10 PM: I’m not sure about that, but hey, I’ll take it. I was pissed at Rachel. I’m still pissed at Rachel. I’ve had time to think about it, and I feel kind of bad.

BAH 4:12 PM: Don’t be. We realized it wasn’t Lui.

Teeth raked Blaine’s upper lip as he considered how to reply to this. The fingers of his right fell on each cheek across his chin. He drew them tightly down his face pulling the skin of his jaw into a dull point. He shouldn’t have mentioned her name.

LimaYodeler 4:13 PM: Is Kurt with you?

Change of subject, thank god. Blaine did not want to get into a discussion about what happened by text. Yes, he told a white lie, but he, Sam, Kurt and Rachel went way back, giving them room for forgiveness.

BAH 4:014 PM: He’s in New York looking after the play and baby-sitting his mom.

LimaYodeler 4:15 PM: I guess you miss him.

BAH 4:16 PM: More than you can imagine. Sam, I’ve missed our talks, but considering all that happened, we needed your time.

LimaYodeler 4:19 PM: I know you tried to get hold of me. It’s been a bit of a roller coaster.

KAH 4:19 PM: Hey there, honey. ☺☺☺☺

BAH 4:20 PM: Lovie dovie! ♥♥♥ (Sent to Kurt.)

KAH 4:21 PM: I got you live? Sorry, it’s taken all day to get hold of you. It’s still nuts here.

BAH 4:22 PM: I can imagine. How is my sweet canary today? (Sent to Kurt.)

LimaYodeler 4:22 PM: Jiu and I are getting married.

BAH 4:22 PM: What? (Intended for Sam, but accidentally sent to Kurt.)

KAH 4:23 PM: Blaine?

BAH 4:23 PM: When? How? (Sent to Sam.)

BAH 4:24 PM: Sam and Jiu are getting married. (Sent to Kurt.)

KAH 4:25 PM: What? No shit!

LimaYodeler 4:25 PM: She asked three days ago.

KAH 4:26 PM: That’s the last thing I expected. It's good you two are talking.

LimaYodeler 4:26 PM: When you get back, we need to chat. I want you to be my best man.

BAH 4:27 PM: Gee. That’s wonderful. (Fat fingers sent it to Kurt when it should have gone to Sam.)

BAH 4:28 PM: Will do. (Resent to the right person, Sam.)

KAH 4:28 PM: What’s wonderful?

BAH 4:29 PM: Wrong person. Sorry honey. (Sent to Kurt.)

LimaYodeler 4:30 PM: You in New York for Xmas?

BAH 4:30 PM: How are you today, sweetie? (Ended up going to Sam and not Kurt.)

LimaYodeler 4:31 PM: Sweetie?

A gentle rap on the door distracted Blaine, and he frowned. He could see the little blip on the screen signalling someone typed.

BAH 4:32 PM: Chatting with Kurt. (Sent to the right person, Sam.)

KAH 4:32 PM: Blaine, how’s Sam other than the premarriage bliss? We didn’t really get to enjoy that. Well, sort of???

LimaYodeler 4:33 PM: Say hello.

The annoying knock repeated itself, and Blaine swore under his breath.

BAH 4:34 PM: Someone’s at the door. Be right back. (Sent to Kurt instead of Sam.)

BAH 4:35 PM: Have to answer the door. Be a sec. (To Kurt again.)

Eyes rolled as Blaine stomped toward the door, not paying attention to what he did. Walking into the low table, he cursed as he hoped to one side. Glowering at the obstruction, he limped to the door with his head down.

KAH 4:35 PM: The call boy has arrived?

BAH 4:35 PM: Never. (Sent to Sam.)

LimaYodeler 4:36 PM: Never?

That, someone forcefully knocked again, and Blaine made a face. What if Jerry stood on the other side? He certainly hoped not. The stage assistant hovered around him way ever since they started recording making Blaine uncomfortable. This afternoon he spent a good portion of his time trying to talk Blaine into going out pubbing in the West End. Blaine had no intention of doing anything of the sort, especially with him.

BAH 4:38 PM: Damned door. It had better be important. (Intended for Sam but ended up going to Kurt.)

LimaYodeler 4:39 PM: Text back when you’re free.

BAH 4:38 PM: Okay.

The phone drooped in Blaine’s hand as he reached for the door. Without looking up from the tiny screen, he pulled the door inward and suddenly stopped. A puzzled look crossed his face as he squinted at the foot encased in a rubberized medical walking boot. His eyes went wide, and the phone slipped from his fingers to the floor.

“Surprise!” Kurt yelled out in a high pitch. Jazz hands, one holding his phone, blurred in front of his chest, and his smile could have lit the city.

With a ferocity that stunned his husband, Blaine threw himself at his lover. Pressing his lips into his handsome face, a hand came to rest on Kurt’s cheek. Instinctively Kurt folded himself into the embrace. The immensely happy man pushed his body into Blaine as if trying to make two, one. An older couple strolling down the hall gave him an odd look.

“Kurt?” The word caught in Blaine’s throat as he pulled back ever so slightly. Watery eyes went down to the hobbled foot and then back up again as if he could not believe what he saw.

A slight blush rose in Kurt’s cheeks as he shyly looked down. In a low voice, he said, “I couldn’t hold out.”

“I see that.’ Blaine did not want to let the man he loved go, but the buzzing of the phone pulled him away. Stooping down and picked the communications device up.

“Sam?” Kurt inquired.

Blaine’s eyebrows came together and then he shook his head. “Come in and put that foot up.”

“I know that look and, no, Sam is not in on this.” Kurt hauled his luggage out of the hall and set it beside a narrow table next to the door. Unbuttoning his double-breasted jacket and threw it onto the nearby chair.

“I wasn’t implying,” Blaine watched his husband. Such a beautiful walk and that smile melted the heart.

Pushing a finger into his lover’s chest, Kurt grinned. “I know you, Blaine.”

Closing the door, Blaine sent a quick message to Sam and then tossed the phone on his husband’s coat. Glued in place, he stared at Kurt with a myriad of emotions flashing across his face.

“Are you angry with me?” Kurt turned in the middle of the room.

“No, never.” Blaine’s expression abruptly changed. “I can’t believe you would be so crazy.”

Extending his arms wide, Kurt beaconed his love to him. With an adorably soft look, Blaine crumbled into the man he treasured. Chins leaning on one another’s shoulders, and both men felt the excitement stretching cloth. Hearts thumping erratically, it did not take too long before they beat as one. Heightened sentiment created an overpowering sensation of better.

Deliberately shuffling his feet, Kurt imitated dancing motions. Intuitively his husband followed while humming a slow song they both knew. The path to London had is difficulties, but eventually, Carole and the doctor agreed with only one provision. Pam ardently agreed, even though Burt had something less kind to say about the crazy idea. The flight over the pond proved to be a nerve-wracking affair.

“Blaine, I want you?” Kurt whispered as a hand sank deep into the other man’s pants finding the hair covering his buns.

“You sure?” Blaine hesitated as his mind flashed to the doctor’s office.

Kurt’s free hand reached into a pocket and pulled something out. Forcing the container of lubricant and a row of six condoms into his lover’s palm, Kurt impishly grinned. Blaine immediately stopped moving, and his watery honey brown eyes revealed his primitive yearnings. Hungry lips press into the skin of Kurt’s neck, and Blaine’s tongue caressed salty skin up to the erogenous zone below the ear. With uncharacteristic intent, Kurt ripped at Blaine’s shirt shedding buttons in all directions. Fingers splayed out on lustrous hair of a toned torso as Kurt pushed his face into Blaine’s thick, sexy lips.

Blaine’s eyes fluttered, and with a delicious groan, he pulled his sexy husband tightly to him. Wandering fingers lifted the cashmere sweater up the spine as he traced a line down the backbone. Fingers gingerly walked around to the front, where they pulled at the fortress of Kurt’s belt, disabling the final defence when a button popped. The tan coloured fabric hung here for a moment clinging to the significant obstacle bulging upfront. Eventually, gravity won the invisible battle and his loose a pair of loose-fitting pants collapsed to the ankles. Unobstructed by the lack of undergarments, the massive object sprung up at full attention. A hushed gasp rolled from Blaine’s throat when a lack of underwear allowed a tantalizing erection to stand at attention.

The two men stood there for a moment, staring, and then Kurt hauled his sweater over his head. Dropping it beside him, he took his husband’s left hand and led down to the flesh of his inner thigh just below the impressive instrument. Blaine blushed, and then his fingers deliberately strained down below the scrotum. Closing his eyes, Kurt spread his legs, providing a hint of the imminent future. Goosebumps rose on exposed skin when deft fingers gently tickled.

Kurt responded by pushing his hand into Blaine’s pants, finding the soft hair occupying that special space of his husband’s butt. Blaine moaned and leaned forward with his digits still playing around Kurt’s never regions. With a concerted effort, Kurt dragged his free hand under the waistband around to the front of Blaine’s pants. Consumed with devilish delight, Kurt lightly traced three fingers against the plump hardness trapped within human garments. At the same time, his other hand pulled the cloth tight as the other reached around and pulled the zipper down. A second later, a button snapped, and Blaine’s light pants tumbled down to his ankles.

The moistness of a tongue glided down Kurt’s leg as Blaine stooped down to shuck his pants, underwear and socks. The sensitivity of the taste buds gliding along Kurt’s skin and the extended monster bouncing against his head caused Blaine to stumble. Then the struggled as the bunched up fabric conspired against Blaine. When he happily wore no clothes, Blaine glanced up with a questioning look, and then knuckles knocked on the orthopedic device binding an ankle.

The index finger danced across his lover’s forehead, and Kurt said, “Pull up a chair.”

Blaine grasped one of the luxuriously curving chairs to his left. The angle proved awkward, but he persevered and tugged the heavy wooden leg closer. His husband fell back into it, giggling and bent forward and kissed Blaine on the top of his head. With a mouth full of curls, Kurt reached for the tousled cloth about his feet only to stop. Adoring hazel eyes caught shining blue and then Blaine licked his lips. Gently kissing his way down to an unbound foot, Blaine carefully pulled the socks off with his teeth. Then Blaine seductively popped each toe into his mouth and an exquisite moan rolled from Kurt’s throat as he leaned back into the chair. A tongue racked a calf as the pant leg slid over the foot. At this point, Blaine hesitated and glanced at the other foot.

With a pouty grin, Kurt bent forward and ripped at the velcro straps of the thing binding his ankle apart and carefully removed the protective device. Kurt paused as a flash of discomfort raced up his leg. Bending his knee and lifting his foot, Kurt winced when Blaine carefully drew the over his tender ankle.

“You alright?” Blaine gazed at his husband with one eyebrow raised.

“Happier than you could ever imagine,” Kurt spoke in seductive tones, and then he smiled. “You made me a promise.”

Loving eyes peered up, and Blaine purred, “Yes, I did.”

A quick wink from Kurt sent Blaine down to the floor. The chest pressed against the plush rug when Blaine purposely lifted the round mounds of his butt into the air giving his husband an eye full. Tentatively licking Kurt’s big toe, the curly-headed man intending to keep his promise. A groan and a shudder led to Blaine tenderly kissed and licked each toe until Kurt moaned. The man above him quivered, and not wanting to push his luck, Blaine laid a single, passionate kiss on the top of his lover’s foot.

The muscles in Blaine’s back beautifully flexed when he pushed himself up to his knees. Slurping his tongue up the leg, Blaine purposely bypassed a substantial impediment on his way to the belly button. In response, Kurt fell back onto the chair, spreading his arms wide, allowing his husband access to every inch of his lean body. The man Blaine prized with all his heart accepted the worshipping without reservation and the longer it lasted, the more torturous the intimate passion became.

A hand fell on Blaine’s lover’s cheek, and he instinctively pressed his lips into his husband’s palm. Briefly, hazel eyes locked on blue and in that instant, they shared a sense of release. Pressing his cheek into Kurt’s hand, Blaine held it there for a long while as if telling his lover everything would be fine. A fond smile spread Kurt’s mouth and then he slid his hand down to Blaine’s neck. Blaine responded and hauled himself up to his husband’s lips.

Drowning in gentle kisses, Kurt slowly pushed his husband away. Looking at the vast, comfortable bed, one husband offered the other man his hand. Blaine pouted when Kurt glanced down at his foot. Getting the hint, Blaine, with Kurt’s help, carefully put the protective medical boot back where it belonged.

Slowly standing, Blaine’s thick pole stared Kurt in the face. A tongue flashed across sensitive skin and then Kurt rested his lips on a moist, pink head. A finger slowly walked around to Blaine’s round ass, bringing a growling moan from the standing man. Instead of doing the expected, Kurt took Blaine’s right hand in his left and carefully stood. A happy little smile spread Kurt’s lips as he circled until his ass pressed against Blaine’s stiff appendage. Hands wrapped around his lover as Blaine snuggled up to the other man while pressing his penis between powerful thighs. Kurt squeezed his legs together as he slowly moved toward the bed. With the arms wrapped around each other, they shuffled forward, creating a motivating thrusting sensation.

A couple of feet from the bed, Blaine gently twisted Kurt around, so they faced each other. Passionately kissed his husband, Blaine lowered a beaming Kurt to the large, soft bed. Cautiously aware of Kurt’s wounded ankle, they shared passionate kisses as they slid up the thick duvet toward a pile of pillows. Nose to nose, they gazed at each other with longing delight.

Blue eyes reflected a moment of discomfort as Kurt shifted his weight. Blaine flinched, but then Kurt pressed their mouths together. Fingers grazed the smooth skin of Kurt’s torso stopping in a puff of hair about the base an engorged power stick. The digits lightly tickled the hair around the base of a rigid cock while tongues searched the depth of each other mouths. Desirous of more, Blaine’s moaned as sexual aggression grew into a sense of joyful revitalization and an enduring belonging. Skillful fingers walked down the length of Blaine’s husband’s shaft, down over the balls finding the sensitive spot in the crevice of a willing butt. At the same time, the curly-headed man slithered down the bed, racking his tongue down the muscles of a smooth torso. His chin pressed against the wet spot at the head of a hard cock where he rolled his tongue around the head of a wondrous joystick. Wet flesh played up and down the veins of a hard cock, and then Blaine slowly guided the long shaft into his throat, where he gently repeated the process.

A whimper played on Kurt’s lips as his head rolled back onto the pillow. Thrusting up into Blaine’s mouth proved to be a mistake, and he quickly pulled out of his lover’s fantastic mouth. Kurt’s face distorted as he rolled over onto his hip with his back pressed into his lover’s stiffness as he reached for a large pillow. Dragging it down the bed, Kurt placed it between his legs, propping his injured leg up providing Blaine ample room to enjoy the main course.

Sliding his pelvis up and down it the crack of Kurt’s smooth, firm rear, Blaine teased his husband until he quivered with anticipation. The rousing expansion of his manhood created a frenzied lust in the two men, and then Blaine grasped the small container at the edge of the bed. Flipping the top, he squirted an overabundance into his palm. Pulling his hips back, he lathered up his demanding appendage before gently probing his partner’s entrance. Slowly adding pressure, Blaine felt Kurt tense up after a tentatively shallow penetration. One husband instantly withdrew, and the other slapped his bare ass telling him to continue. With loving care, Blaine pressed an inflamed head against a willing outlet opening it like a dewy flower. Pausing when he bottomed out, Blaine waited for Kurt to relax before the main event began.

Over the next hour and a half, two lovers lost themselves in their passions, stopping only to swap aggressive roles. Two jolting orgasms later, Blaine lay there with his head on Kurt’s chest, playing with the splattered cum pooling between pectoral muscles. Amazed by his husband’s rare third spray of manly fluids, Blaine’s lust dissolved into a peaceful warmth. Unable to recall the last time he felt so utterly content, the gift of emotion, longing and comfort gently fused, giving Blaine hope.

“My, you were an animal,” Kurt whispered. His head moved as he looked down at the curls pushed into his cheek. Happier than he had been for over a year, fingers lovingly pressed into the unruly mass that defined Blaine Anderson.

“We need to spend time apart more often.” Blaine lifted his finger from Kurt’s smooth skin, drawing a sticky string of moisture with it. The smile on his face could have melted an iceberg.

Tapping his love on the nose, Kurt shook his head. “Not on your life.”

The same finger pushed down into the pool of spent seed on Kurt’s chest, and Blaine smeared it around. In a tentative tone, he asked, “Did I hurt you?”

“I really needed this.” One eyebrow rose toward his messy hair and then Kurt said, “And no, I was not afraid. I told you I wanted you, and I meant it. The past two weeks have been unpleasant, but it forced me to think of more than what happened.

Pushing himself up, Blaine gave his partner a sad look. “I don’t want to go there.”

“Hush.” Pressing fingers to his husband’s mouth, Kurt whispered. “It had to be. With you always there, I didn’t really face my demons. When you walked out of sight to catch your plane, everything began to swirl. Poor Carole, she was so good to me.”

“Kurt?”

“Please, Blaine, no.”

“I felt awful leaving you behind. I would never have gone.”

“I would have made you.”

The look on Blaine’s face went hard and then abruptly softened into a frown.

“I can’t pretend it’s over, but this is the freest and happiest I’ve felt in months. I have you to thank for that, my dearest Blaine.” A hand found husband’s fingers and Kurt pulled two of them up to his lips. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“Okay?”

“No more hiding from the monsters in my head. I promise you I’ll speak of my fears because the biggest things I faced was the thought of losing you.”

“Counterproposal.”

“Oh?”

“I promise to be open up about my feelings and to allow you to hold me as I will hold you.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

Kurt winked at his husband as his finger dug deeply into the other man’s sweaty back. “That was the best.”

Blaine smiled and cranes his neck so he could kiss his husband. “It reminded me of our first time.”

The smile on Kurt’s face hinted of embarrassment. “You made me feel so special and cherished.”

Blaine beamed at the man he loved. “I will always cherish you, my best friend, my sweet lover, my dearest Kurt.”

Kurt blushed, and then his face stiffened. In a low voice, he said, “You know, that was the first time we’ve done it without protection since—”

Blaine involuntarily pulled back, and then he looked for the package condoms caught up in the dishevelled duvet. The colour drained from his face, and he choked on his breath. Children came to mind, followed by Burt’s look when he found out they had never used condoms.

Kurt’s hand touched his husband’s cheek, and he quietly stated, “I have been tested every couple of months. So far, nothing.”

Blaine rested his head on Kurt’s arm. Hazel eyes stared up at his husband as if he measured Kurt’s intent and his own emotions.

“Blaine, this was a one-off.” Kurt judiciously rolled over, cupping the face of the man he loved in his free hand.

Fondly gazing at his husband, Blaine released a loud sigh and then whispered, “We talked this to death, and I am comfortable if you’re comfortable. I miss those days where a one-off meant nothing, but, for the sake of our children, we have to be careful.”

Kurt rolled his head back onto the pillow with a frown. “Yes, we have to be responsible for them, but Blaine, we have to be ourselves as well.”

Moving his head so he can see Kurt’s face, Blaine rolled his lips over each other. “Kurt, let’s be safe and keep testing ourselves.”

“I hate the feeling of condoms.” Kurt moaned. “It feels unnatural.”

“I know, my love. I don’t like them either.” Blaine pouted and then sighed. “Maybe, one day, but not now.”

Turning his head, so his nose pressed into Blaine’s unruly curls, Kurt said, “Okay, now what?”

“We lose ourselves in our togetherness and fall in love all over again?”

“I think I can easily manage that. What about us in London?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday, and the crew is taking it off. I would like to go to the Tower and walk along the Thames.”

“I might be able to keep up with you for some of it.”

“Sorry, forgot.”

“No worry.”

“When we get up—”

“You beast.” A foot bound in padding tapped against a naked calf, giving a hint of Kurt’s intent.

“In the morning.”

“That’s what I meant.”

“You’re such a tease.”

“You love it.”

“I do.”

Kurt smirked and kissed the side of Blaine’s head.

“We can get hold of Judith—” Blaine suddenly lifted his head and stained to look at the nearby clock.

“What?” Kurt propped himself up on an elbow with a concerned look.

“Judith will be here in just under two hours. She’s taking me to a party in Kensington.”

“Swanky?”

“Did you bring a tux?”

“Just a suit. Did she say it was formal?

“Not really.”

“Then, it will do.”

“We need to clean up.” Blaine started for the edge of the bed.

Kurt caught his husband’s hand and pulled Blaine closer, planting a big kiss on him. “Now, I’m ready for that shower.”

Dragging himself off the end of the bed, Blaine stood and stretched before offering his husband a hand. Kurt gingerly worked toward the edge of the mattress, where Blaine helped him stand. Kurt paused and then gave his lover an odd, ‘oh dear’ look.

Fluffy brows furrowed, and Blaine questioned, “And?”

“I forget?” Kurt glanced at the door to the suite and threw his arms in the air. “Your mom’s in the Courtyard Room.”

Blaine’s eyes went wide.

“It was the only way Sarah would let me come.” Kurt carefully shimmied to the down the mattress.

His face scrunching up, and then Blaine dashed for the bathroom.


	30. London Part 3

“This is a wonderfully unexpected surprise. I never expected to be going out on the town,” Pam commented with a little smile, she occasionally looked out the window of the darkening sights of London. Off to the west, the sky turned orange-red as the sunset behind the historic buildings.

“The whole evening has been one big surprise,” Blaine muttered. Dressed in a dark suit with his customary bow tie, he looked a bit uncomfortable. While he enjoyed having his mom here, he would rather be sitting beside his husband. 

A mother’s eyes turned to her son with concern.

“You loved my big surprises.” Kurt turned his head so he could see his husband in the corner of his eye. The skin of his neck bunched up at the collar of his charcoal gray suit accented with a long black tie with fine red piping.

“I bet you do,” Judith joked with an offhanded flip of her wrist.

Squished between his mother and Judith, Blaine felt self-conscious of the heat rising in his cheeks. To settle himself, he reached forward, placing a hand on his husband’s shoulder. Being apart from Kurt at this time in his treatments proved to be an emotional roller coaster he did not need. At first, the excitement kept his mind occupied, but then a stark reality struck—they did not need him unless something needed changing. Yes, he played the piano for several of the pieces, but then he would sit there for long periods of time with little to do. 

Blaine’s head drooped and looked at his fingernails of the hand resting on his thigh. Being in London and driving through a wealthy neighbourhood in a classic forty-year-old Rolls Royce slowly made its way down the wide streets lit by ornate streetlamps, excited Kurt. His darling lover peered through the glass window watching the people strolled the streets wearing coats suitable for a moist, fall evening. Large, leafless trees lined both sides of the avenue in front of stately, white-faced manor houses. Some hid behind thick, manicured hedges while finely craft wrought iron fences guarded others. Affluent beyond anything he could imagine, the community enthralled him. Here and there, he commented about the need to go shopping on High Street, especially Harrods. Blaine had intended to fulfil that wish and enjoy the famous high tea with two people he loved.

Yes, Blaine knew he brooded as did his husband and mother. Once they washed the results of their lovemaking away, the duo trotted went in search of Pam. They found her sitting in her small room, sipping on a cup of tea with her feet up. She looked like a queen on that big bed surrounded by huge pillows. With care, she put her tea down and got off the bed to greet her son with a warm hug. She winked to Kurt, knowing all too well, what kept them. The problem which upset Blaine occurred a few minutes later.

“Blaine?” Pam whispered, leaning closer and placed a hand on her son’s thigh. “You still upset?”

“Mom, I’m overjoyed you chose to babysit Kurt.” Blaine looked away from the soft leather of the seat in front of him and at his mother. 

“But?” Pam cut her son with a shake of her head. “Since when have you become the fashion guru? I thought that was Kurt’s job.”

“Oh, he has an eye for fashion,” Kurt injected. “He just isn’t vocal about it.”

“Blaine, darling, do suck it up like a good little gay boy and enjoy,” Judith interrupted before things went any further. She gazed passed from Pam to her son, giving him a speculative look.

Kurt glanced over his shoulder and said, “Oh, snap.”

A chuckle rolled from Blaine’s throat, and he smiled. Bumping his shoulder into his mom, he looked at her and said, “I don’t want to ruin the evening.”

“Now, kiss and make up.” Judith insisted with one brow raised. 

Blaine gave the ageing actress an odd gaze and then looked to Kurt, who stretched to glance back.

The Dame cocked her head to one side. “Well?”

A smile brightened sullen face, and Blaine leaned over and kissed his mom on the cheek. While the sentiment meant many things, his mood continued to twist. Minus a small disruption, the evening had been more than perfect.

“Good boy.” Judith wagged a finger at his young friend. “Tonight is meant to be fun. How often do I get to show off my American cuties? Besides, a lady of stature should be able to wear whatever she wishes.”

Peeking at his mother, Blaine had to admit she looked stunning in her semi-formal, ankle-length blue dress. Ashamed of himself, he tapped her gently on the arm, and when she turned, he softly whispered, “Mom, I really am sorry. I’m such a prig at times. Judith dragged me around, showing me off and then Ang’s extended business meetings turned into parties. I’ve tried his best not to be one of those boorish Americans.”

Judith playfully grinned. “Too late.”

Pam glanced at her hostess and then kissed her son on the cheek. “Dear, you have too much charm, and Kurt will never allow it. As for myself, we’ll see.” 

“Not if I can help it, darling,” Kurt happily stated.

Bashfully grinning, Blaine’s brown eyes swung toward the front of the car and Kurt. His handsome husband sat sideways, looking back at him with an adoring look on his face. They blew each other kisses and then smiled.

A hand brushed over the soft fabric of her dress and then Pam turned to her hostess and said, “Thank you, Judith, I hope we were not too much of a bother.”

“It was nothing more than a quick addition to the guest list. The main event was planned long before I knew that handsome son of yours would be gracing our little island with his greatness. And now I get two pieces of arm candy.” Judith paused and quickly glanced out the window before she added in a prim manner. “Luckily, a lady of stature arrived to save the day and bully the hotel into finding something suitable from their lost and found.”

“Thank god, for Kurt and his quick fingers,” Pam responded.

Kurt stretched to look at his husband and then joined in. The sparkle in those blue eyes made Blaine felt foolish, and that rascally grin made it impossible for him not to chuckle.

Judith gave the young man a thumbs up and said, “Just because we’re headed for the most uptight section of town doesn’t mean they’re a stuffy lot. I’ve been to more than one party that ended up in the pool.”

“No?” Kurt blurted out as he turned toward the back seat.

“Oh, yes.” Judith fondly smiled. “In seventy-eight, we ended up in the Round Pond in Hyde Park. The police arrived in short-order and respectfully set up a perimeter when they discovered who was there and patiently waited for us to depart.”

Restrained by a seat belt, Kurt looked back with a wild, inquisitive expression on his face. 

Grinning, Judith spoke before Kurt could open his mouth, “Sorry, dear. State secret.”

Kurt glanced at Blaine for support but said to Judith. “Who’s going to be at this party?”

“No one of any importance.” Judith bobbed her head back and forth as if she counted out names. 

Kurt gave the ageing actress a look.

Judith playfully rolled her eyes and grinned. With the perfect dignity, she stated, “Well, perhaps there may be a few West End types. You know, producers, directors and actor or three.”

“You’re not going to tell us, are you?” Blaine glanced across his mother at Judith.

“Don’t be nosy, dear.” Pam tapped her son on the arm with a wink at their hostess.

Blaine grunted and looked passed the driver as the car made a slow turn to get around someone’s very lavish sports car double-parked in front of a stately home. The sight gave away to a high hedge with an ornate metal fence separating it from the sidewalk. The view changed as another large house came into view and then vanished into a bundle of tall fir trees. The greenery gave way to a hedge and here, the road they travelled turned revealing a large space unoccupied by any building. On the opposite side of the street, a structure loomed on the growing darkness behind a privacy screen made of foliage and a high fence. The three-story red brick building nestled in the center of an ample green space. 

Pointing at a substantial edifice poking up out of the trees of Palace Avenue, Judith said in a flat tone, “Oh, there is it, our quaint little destination.”

“That’s Kensington Palace?” Kurt stammered.

“Oh, dear.” A consonant actress gave nothing away with her innocent reply. “I do believe it is?”

Blue narrowed as Kurt gave her a look. “You’re playing with us?”

“I don’t think so,” Pam commented as the car made the slow turn onto the road, separating a green space from the bastion of a prestigious life.

“You never told us you knew royalty?” Blaine gazed at Judith.

“Oh, the failing memory of youth? For the first time this evening.” Judith let her practiced face fall away into a roguish grin. “You forget our little cruise on the Rhine.”

Blaine’s jaw dropped, and he glanced at Kurt. They both said, “Princess Margaret.”

“Among others,” Judith added.

“Oh, god’s, I’m going to be sick.” Kurt moaned.

“No, you’re not dear.” Pam stroked Kurt’s shoulder. Her eyes briefly went to her son, who looked worried.

The smooth-riding luxury car veered toward a gate with a guardhouse where a tall man in a dark suit stepped out. The driver rolled down his window and handed the security official a stiff card about the size of a photograph. The officious man studied it and then looked through the back window. Judith waved at the thirty-odd-year-old sentry who returned a knowing nod. The gate swung open after the man made a gesture toward the gatehouse.

A few minutes later, three Americans and a prim British actress strolled through the threshold into British history. In many ways, it was like walking into a lavish fairy tale, except the touch of another man’s hand invoked the wonders of reality. Blaine absently slipped his right hand into Kurt’s left as they followed an impeccably dressed doorman. The middle-aged man escorted them up a wide staircase with several levels of black and white marble tiles worming up the walls from the towering entry. At the top, the stiff-backed man turned and led them through elegantly appointed galleries with high walls covered in priceless paintings and lined with stunning statuary. Kurt often poked Blaine or visa-versa as they pointed priceless items out. 

One such nudge caught Blaine’s attention, and he glanced toward his curious husband. Kurt leaned close and whispered, “Do you think we are going to meet Harry?”

“Somehow, I wouldn’t count on that. He has a new family and is making a life for himself between Canada and LalaLand.,” Blaine whispered as his thumb rubbed the back of his lover’s hand.

“We have a family.” Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand.

Blaine swung their comingled hands back and bounced them off Kurt’s butt. He quietly said to his wide-eyed lover, “Now Judith gets to show off the other half of our dynamic coupledom.”

“Would I do that to you?” Judith drew her words out as she glanced over her shoulder at the tourists.

“We love you, Judith, and yes, you would,” Kurt responded.

Blaine quickly added. “But then, who could pass up meeting my adorable husband.”

“Ah,” Kurt quickly kissed Blaine on the cheek.

The older actress smiled and looked at Pam. “They haven’t changed since the first time I met them.”

“They’ve been sickeningly in love since high school.” Pam poked fun at her son and the man she considered to be her third son. “Besides, they came up with the goods, and grandchildren makes growing older easier to handle.”

“Mom!” Blaine tried to keep his voice down. 

“Come along, boys?” Judith called back to the two men lagging behind the two chuckling ladies.

The two men hurried to catch up, and as they made their way along the wide, luxurious corridors. The sound of contemporary music caught their attention as their dress shoes padded on luxurious carpets. A man wearing a crisp black suit with a hidden earpiece standing before a set of double doors nodded to Judith as if he knew her. Silent words passed between them and then he looked at the card she handed him. He reached into a pocket pulling a small electronic device and scrolled down before reaching for the doorknob. One door opened revealing a sizable room with light blue walls with bright white trim offsetting the statuary and paintings and the chatter of multiple conversations. The three dozen-odd people mingled about wearing clothing from tuxedos and elegant gowns to designer jeans, sweaters or shirts. The varied crowd ranging from their twenties into their eighties gathered in small groups chatting with drinks in their hands. A servant dressed in black walked about picking up empties while a young woman offered finger food from a silver tray with a white cloth on it. 

Kurt tugged Blaine to a stop shortly after the door swung shut behind them, and the two exchanged wide-eyed glances. Sprinkled around the room stood several people they recognized from the trade papers. Two of the biggest producers of London stage talked to one another off to the right, highlighted by the radiance streaming through a window. On the other side of the room, the director of the latest Harry Potter play spoke to the newest breakout actors of British stage and screen. A young actress mingled with two couples in their mid-forties off by a piano while her bored and handsome date lingered close by nursing an almost empty drink.

“You alright, my love?” Blaine softly asked his husband.

The gorgeous man walking with the aid of a cane smiled and responded, “I’m always good with you nearby.”

“Remember, if you get jittery, let me know. We can leave.”

“I’m good, but thank you.”

“It’s all up to you.”

“Blaine, look around.”

“You’re more important than making a few business contacts.”

Pam came to a halt when she noticed her son's hesitation. A single step later, she said to the two young men, “My, I’m going to remember this evening.” 

Kurt pulled his hand tighter about his husband’s, and then a loud commotion behind him caught his attention. Hazel eyes peered that way as a casually dressed elderly couple stroll through the door they had passed through moments earlier. Jerking on Blaine to get his attention, the pair watched two of Britain’s biggest stars mingled with a boisterous group crowding about the door. Kisses and hugs abounded.

A sudden rush of air exploded from Kurt’s lips, followed by a sharp intake. In response, Blaine nudged his husband forward as he gave his mother a thankful little smile. 

Judith turned to her guests, proving them with a devilish grin. “See, boys, it’s just a little family affair. Nothing too scary.”

Kurt attempted to keep his voice down. “That’s—”

“Don’t gap dear,” Judith warned. “You’ll appear provincial.”

Blaine chuckled and then winked at his mom, who smiled back. A puff of warm air ruffled Kurt’s stiff hair startling him. The look on his face hardened, and then he looked to Blaine with an adoring glint in his eyes. 

“Ah, I see Judith,” a portly, bald, middle-aged gentleman called from across the room. Making his way through a large group situated around a couch with three well-dressed older ladies held court, he waved a hand. 

The look on Judith’s face told a story, regardless of her flawless façade. Kurt’s lip curled up as he gave Blaine a sideways glance to see Blaine glazing into the revellers with one eyebrow slightly raised. At times Kurt overdid his outfits, but this man would stand out in a raging blizzard in his bold yellow checker suit and bright red shoes. The light shined off his balding head accented the fact the dye and his natural gray hair colours did not match. 

Dame Judith Cummingham wiggled her fingers to get the American’s attention and then indicated the approaching storm. In a low voice, she said, “Come along, my darlings, I’m not doing battle by myself.”

“Judith, darling, it is so good to see you. What has it been? Two or three months?” The shorter man with off coloured hair rose on his toes to give the Dame of the British stage a peck on the cheek.

“Oh, Dicky, you rogue, when was it, Arscott,” Judith smile, while charming, had a hint of mockery. “Boys, I want you to meet Dicky Sanderson, director of stage, screen and the occasional travesty. Dicky, this is Kurt and Blaine Anderson-Hummel and Pam Anderson, Blaine’s mother.”

The man gave Judith a speculative look and then offered the boys a firm handshake before kissing Pam’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you, especially such a stunning beauty as Mrs. Anderson.”

Pam blushed, and Blaine’s eyebrows pull together, and he heard a snicker emanating from Kurt.

“Dicky, you scoundrel,” Judith taps him on the shoulder with a flash warning in her eye.

“My dear, Dame, you have such delightful friends.” Dicky turned to the two men with a speculative grin. “I hope Judith has not run you astray. She has a reputation for dramatics.”

“Dicky?” Judith objected.

The round man swayed ever so slightly and winked. “Come now, Judith, you came out fencing first.”

“A gentleman would turn the other cheek.”

“As you so kindly pointed out, I am a rogue.”

“Dicky, perhaps you—”

“Oh, no, my dear, we have—"

“Judith, it’s a pleasure as usual?” The twenty-year-old man kissed the older woman on both cheeks. Sported a light grey tweed jacket and black pants, he did not hide how he looked at Dicky over the rim of his glasses.

With practiced poise, Judith smiled and inclined her head. “Your honour?”

“My, you’re showing off tonight,” Dicky made a jab at Judith as the younger gentleman approached. 

The arch of Judith’s brow gave away her relief when it drooped. A sweet smile spread her lips, and she said, “Arthur, may I introduce Kurt, Blaine and Pam.”

“Pleasure.” He offered each of them a hand.

Kurt looked the younger man up and down as if he somehow recognized him but did not know from where. Blaine tapped his lover’s hand to draw his attention away. In exchange, Dicky gave Kurt an apprehensive look and shuffled closer to Blaine.

One of Judith’s eyebrows went up, and she quietly asked, “Arthur, has Dicky been cut off yet?”

“He’s up to his tricks already?” The young man gave the older, chubby man a look.

“Has she arrived yet?” Judith asked as he waved at someone in the crowd.

Looking over his shoulder, Arthur nodded. “She’s back in her aunt’s sitting room?”

“Well, I guess we should pay our respects.” Judith’s head bobbed up and down. 

“I do not think your sentiment will amuse her.” Dicky quietly chided.

Judith gave the round older man a look. “She will be less impressed if you repeated your endeavours from the Eagle, Dicky.”

Kurt’s eye twitched as he nervously glanced about. “Who is it we’re going to meet?”

“You don’t know?” Dicky blurted out, and then his mouth curled up into a delicious grin.

“Know what?” Kurt seriously asked.

“An admirer?” Judith took a step back.

Dicky downed his wine. “My, this is going to be rich.”

“Dicky, come along, Casper was looking for you with a couple of young gentlemen I think you would enjoy meeting,” Arthur gave Judith a ‘you owe me’ look.

Blaine and Kurt exchanged glances as Arthur led Dicky to the other side of the room, where a group of people congregated before a fireplace. Judith’s fencing partner looked back once and winked at Blaine. 

“I apologize.” Judith looked a bit embarrassed. “Dicky can be little much when he’s been into the sauce.”

“And your excuse is?” Kurt challenged.

“Kurt?” Blaine flushed with embarrassment. 

The Dame regarded her young friend for a moment and then smiled. The expression on her face faded into a sigh and then she said, “Just a little word of advice. If he wants you to work with him, say no.” 

“Oh?” Blaine questioned with a concerned look. 

“Let me just say that, while he may be a shrewd businessman, he is like many in Hollywood,” Judith stated in a soft tone. With a deep breath, she straightened up and added, “We should move along.”

Kurt half-turned to face Judith. “Go where?”

Winking, Judith rolled her shoulders and took a step to the left toward a set of doors at the far end of the room. “You will see.”

The two men trailed Judith as she worked the room, dropping a title here and a charming or sharp comment there. Eventually, the four of them found themselves in front of a door where Judith talked to a stiff, middle-aged fellow in a dark suit. The fellow stiffly greeted her, even though they knew one another. He looked the American’s up and down several times and then nodded.

It took a while, but eventually, they passed into another blue room with a blue couch, green chair and a lovely oak desk. An older gentleman in a dark blue suit holding a cup of tea stood next to the window, speaking to a slightly younger lady in a pale green dress holding a glass of wine. Behind the couch, two middle-aged ladies wearing casual, formal chatted with a fellow in his forties clad in a trendy sweater Blaine would love to own. A man in his seventies, adorned in a dark grey blazer and pants sat in the green chair speaking to a woman of a similar age wearing a brown patterned jacket and a white turtleneck. Their conversation seemed lively and marked by occasional laughter.

Waltzing along as if she belonged, Judith approached the couch. Blaine’s steps faltered, and a heavy breath expanded his cheeks, and then he reached out to his mother and husband causing them to slow down. Kurt bumped into his husband as if seeking reassurance while trying not to stare. Pam, on the other hand, inched closer to the couch even though her right hand fell on her son’s shoulder.

“Ah, Judith. I see you’re late as usual.” The stately woman on the couch commented as she looked up. “I was considering sending Sinclair out to hunt you down.”

Stopping a respectful distance from the couch, Judith dropped into a short curtsy and ducked her head.

“Judith, no formalities here.” The woman glanced past the Dame with a curious look. “I thought you had only one date for this evening.”

Judith peaked back at the three American’s standing just at the threshold. Waving them forward, she waited until they stood a few feet away and then said, “Your Highness, may I present, Blaine and Kurt Anderson-Hummel and Mrs. Anderson.”

Kurt’s heart froze as a hint of panic rose in his chest, and then he felt Blaine’s hand brush against his. Softly panting, he did not know what to do. Did the take his husband’s hand? Curtsy? Bow? Faint?

“Ah, yes.” Her regal woman stood and strode past Judith to greet them. “I saw the two of you in New York, where you put on the most delightful performances.”

Blaine and Kurt stood there mesmerized with their hearts pounding in their chest. The blood rushing to his brain, making him feel light heads. Images from the news and documentaries flashed in Blaine’s mind, and he inclined his head. A second later, a wide-eyed Kurt took the hint and bent forward a little deeper. 

Pam sank into a short curtsy just as Judith had, though it did not appear as polished. “Your highness, please, pardon my son and his husband. It’s not very often we colonials meet royalty.”

The sister to the King of England honest smile and said to the boys. “I happen to like the colonies. It is a lovely place with many interesting people. My last trip across the pond was an official visit to Canada, and then on to New York for a little fun.”

“You saw our play?” Blaine’s mind finally caught up, and then a sudden deep blush spread up his neck as if he remembered his manners. Inclining his head, he begged, “Excuse me, your highness, please forgive me.”

“There is no need,” Princess Anne smiled and then looked at her friend, patting her on the arm. “Oh, I see she didn’t tell you. Judith told me about a pair of delightful Americans she met on a Rhine cruise who had the most outlandish plan for a remake of a great play. Masterful is all I can say. I hope you bring it to the West End.”

Cheeks flushing, Blaine inclined his head as he stepped a little closer. “I, we, are flattered you would have taken the time, your highness. At present, we’re preparing for an additional two-year run.”

“Excellent, and I would like to walk through the front door.” Anne peered at Judith and then looked back to the man in the sweater. “Rob, will you please arrange it. A Friday night, box seats, the usual stuff and a press release.”

The man inclined his head, making a note in a small book his pull from a pocket.

“Your highness?” Kurt’s voice fluttered. “You honour us.”

“Judith, do instruct them this is not a formal affair, but rather a gathering of friends.” Anne nodded to a servant that had entered the room, who inclined his head and turned around.

Judith shook her head. “Your . . . Anne, you know how improper this is.”

Princess Anne gave Judith a look and then said to Pam, “Come and sit with me.”

Blaine’s mother inclined her head and followed the princess to the couch after shooting her son a triumphant gaze

“You have to be proud, Mrs. Anderson. Your son and his partner have wonderful voices.” Anne smiled at the young men and then sat. “Such harmonies.” 

“They certainly like to sing, your highness.” Pam’s face suddenly turned a shade of red. Quickly glancing at Judith and then back to Princess Anne, she asked, “May I be informal?”

“By all means.” Anne glanced up at the returning servant who carried a tray holding crystal stemware containing wine. He offered it to her highness first, Mrs. Anderson. Judith and then finally, the boys.

“Then, please call me Pam.” She blushed.


	31. London Part 4

Kurt yawned and rolled over, pulling the quilt with him. A hand reached out and found something hard he did not expect—a knee? His sleepy face scrunched up, and his eyes blinked open. Not fully aware yet, he blankly stared up at Blaine, who leaned against the headboard with a pile of pillows behind his back. His head fell on his partner’s stomach, and he asked, “How long have you been up?”

“About an hour.” Blaine put his tablet down and smiled at the cute man next to him. The party in Kensington went well past midnight, even though the three Americans left shortly after one. Neither drank too much, and they sang two duets for Princess Anne. He would remember this night for the rest of his life.

“You should have woken me.”

“Na, I’ve got the cutest video of you sleeping.”

Kurt arched his back, so he looked up, giving his husband a strange look.

With a wink, Blaine asked, “Snuggle up and take a look.”

The sheets had piled up about his feet and freeing his injured ankle hurt. With a little help, he pushed his pillow up against his husband while tugging the quilt up over his naked torso. The air felt chilled, but Blaine’s shoulder felt warm and inviting. In response, Blaine shuffled closer and swiped through the files until it tapped on one. The program loaded, revealing a sleeping Kurt lying on his stomach with his back exposed down to the rounded mounds of a delicious butt. Blaine leaned on one elbow and lightly ran one of the blossoms from the flowers on the night table up and down the sleeping man’s back. An unshaven face erupted into a dazzling smile every time a slumbering Kurt twitched.

“You’re so gorgeous when you sleep,” Blaine said in a soft, loving tone. “I’ve spent many hours watching you, and this morning you looked abnormally stunning.”

“I do look at peace.” Kurt reached out and pulled the tablet toward him.

“I haven’t seen you sleep like that in months.” A fond smile stretched Blaine’s lips. “I wanted a record of the moment the man I love came back to me.”

Kurt beamed at his husband and quietly said, “I never left.”

“No and yes.” Blaine flicked a finger against the edge of the tablet, turning it off. “The man I have been sleeping with for the past few months quaked in my arms. Yesterday, I got my husband back, and only one day has made me happier.”

“And that would have been?”

“Our wedding.”

A deep, shaky inhale calmed Kurt, and he looked up at the man he loved. “Was it that hard?”

“Honestly, yes.” Blaine put the tablet on the side table and wrapped an arm around Kurt, tugging him close. “And before you say anything, Kurt, I never stopped loving you.”

Kurt bit his tongue and then released a sharp breath.

“I know where you went, and that was one of my lowest moments in my life. I will be forever seeking forgiveness from the most loving and moral man I have ever met.”

“Moral?”

“I said that to your father once. He said you got it from your mother.”

Kurt smiled and then pushed his head into his husband’s arm.

Stroking Kurt’s hair, Blaine said in a low voice, “Sorry, my love.”

“I’ll always miss her. Which child would not? But I have you in my life and two wonderful children. She goes on.”

“A beautiful sentiment.” Blaine kissed his husband on the head.

“I want your forgiveness.” Kurt pulled himself up, so his head was level with his husband.

Three fingers came to rest against his husband’s face, and Blaine said, “Kurt, you were not yourself.”

“Blaine that’s exactly it . . . I wasn’t myself.”

Blaine started to say something, and then the alarm buzzed. He growled and slapped it. “I think I understand better now. Back then, how could I have been able to know what you faced? I wasn’t the one—”

“Who was drugged, sodomized . . . raped!” Kurt buried his head into the quilt, where he released an angry groan.

Even though he felt stupid, Blaine folded himself into his husband and swallowed. The sharpness in his chest dug into his heart. Bowing his head, he knew he said the wrong thing.

“There is no other word for it. Blunt, nasty and honest.” Kurt’s head came up suddenly, and he stared into Blaine’s saddened eyes. “I’m here with you, and that's what counts.”

Water glistened around the edges of Blaine’s eyes. “Kurt, I—”

Kurt poked one of Blaine’s nipples. “I’m yours forever and don’t you ever forget it.”

Blaine gazed into Kurt’s seductive blue eyes, and then they fell into one another’s arms kissing. Kurt ran a finger down his husband’s hairy chest headed for an area south of the belly button. A hand pressed down under the blankets where fingers wrapped around an excited love muscle. As if the machines knew, the alarm sounded off again, and Blaine grunted.

Frowning, Kurt glanced at the device and sighed. “I guess that means no morning delight?”

“Waking up with you is all the delight I need, Mr. Anderson-Hummel.” Blaine's fingers stroked something hard beneath the sheets.

Kurt pushed Blaine’s hand away and started to roll over as he pulled the sheets up. Burrowing into the thick duvet, he made himself comfortable. With one eye wider than the other, Kurt dismissed his husband with four words, “Okay, you can go.”

Fingers walked up Kurt’s bare arm, and Blaine asked, “Would you come with me today.”

A charming grin brightened Kurt’s face. “I wouldn’t miss it, but what about your mother?”

A little over an hour later, two married men and a mother road through the busy streets of London headed for the music hall. The morning rush hour in London looked very much like the mess of New York, with the only real difference being they drove on the wrong side of the street. People zigzagged in and out of traffic, sometimes a little too dangerously. The driver took it all in stride with the traditional British stiff upper lip.

A generous assortment of breakfast items waited for them at the Royal Festival Hall, where the technical crew had been working for a couple of hours setting up for the day. On stage, the orchestra and choir of one hundred warmed up beneath the giant movie screen above the heads while sound checks went on all around. A gleaming, full-sized grand piano angled so that the person playing it could see the screen. Ang stood off to the side, talking to the sound and film editors.

The molded beverage tray Kurt carried held a large coffee, two muffins and a thick paper container with sliced fruit in it. Looking around at the splendour of one of the world’s most famous theatres, he consistently remained aware of his mother-in-law slowly strolling down the aisle behind him.

Blaine followed his mother with a coffee in one hand and stuffing his face with a croissant. Gazing toward the stage, he could see the sour look on the director-producer’s face. With a sigh, he said, “Make yourselves comfortable. I have to run.”

“Go and play dear, we’ll be right here.” Pam smiled at her son and looked at the rows of seats.

After a quick hug from his mother, Blaine commented, “I hope you don’t get too bored.”

“Are you kidding,” Pam grinned. “I got drunk with a princess, and now I get to lounge about nursing my hangover watching my son doing something he loves.”

“You watched Kurt and I?” Blaine said with a straight face, and then he impishly grinned, followed by a wink.

Kurt choked, and his mother patted Blaine on the cheek. “Now, runoff and play. Try to keep your mind on your work. Those pants don’t hide much.”

Blaine blushed, and then he leaned in kissing his husband. “When we get started, keep your voices down. The microphones are sensitive.”

“We’ll try,” Pam smirked and then hugged her son again.

Blaine bounded down to the stage with a telltale shake of his butt. Once on stage, he joined Ang even though the tingling in his heart pulled Blaine back to the rows of unoccupied seats. An elderly man recalled the chill he felt at that moment and drew in a painful breath. The muscle in the center of his chest constricted, spewing agony out into his back and limbs. Pushing his head down on the lifeless arm of his lover, old Blaine lamented where this train of thought might take him.

An old man’s eyes squeezed tight as his head rolled down toward his husband’s thigh. The emotional agony surpassed the physical impulses throbbing through his muscles. For the first time since he realized the love of his life somehow continued to speak to him, old Blaine wanted it to end. Fate had other plans, and regardless of how he wished his heart would finally fail, it did not comply with his desire. Something willed this, and a sorrowful older adult could do nothing about the voices as a conversation he should not have heard echoed in his head.

“This place is amazing,” Kurt said to his mother. He stepped closer to the seat next to him. To allow a crew member carrying a large piece of equipment to pass by.

Elsewhere, old Blaine grasped his lover’s motionless hand, seeking what resolve he could muster.

“I bet you would love to sing here,” Pam responded as she looked around and then indicated the mass of empty seats three dozen rows back from the front. “How about we sit over here. We’ll be out-of-the-way, but we will be able to see everything.”

“Okay.” Kurt let Pam step in first and then limps in after her.

“Look at him up there. He’s like a little boy.” Pam put her drink tray on the floor beneath the padded seat, folded up against the back of the chair.

“Yes, he was very much an agile, playful boy,” Kurt absently stated in a dreaming tone.

Giving her son-in-law a look, Pam started to say something and then just shook her head.

Kurt picked at a muffin. “His career is going to explode.”

Pam beamed and then bit into the juicy strawberry. “Hmm, good. How are you feeling?”

Picking the top off one of his banana muffins, Kurt glanced at his mother-in-law. “Amazingly well now that I’ve spent some time under a specialist.”

Pam blinked. “I look at the two of you and, to be honest. I’m jealous.”

“Oh?”

“You’re lovesick puppies. It’s wonderful. I wish . . . well . . . I loved a man like that once. In some ways, I still do.”

“Pam, you’ll find someone again.”

“I don’t know if I want to.”

“Why?”

“When Daniel met, he treated me like a queen. We were so much like the two of you. Then his work and all the travelling got in the way.”

“And Blaine turned out to be gay.”

“Daniel and I were fraying before that.”

“Blaine told me.”

“Don’t let that happen to the two of you. Being apart is good, but not for expanded periods. You’re stronger than he is. He will never admit it, at least to me, but I see his insecurities. The last year was hard on both of you. It’s been difficult, but you have to remember, you’re the most important thing in the world to my son.”

Kurt looked down at the banana in his hand, and the colour drained from his face. His head drooped, and he muttered to himself, “You can’t possibly know.”

A hand fell on Kurt’s arm and in a strong and composed tone, Pam admitted, “Kurt, I was raped.”

The muffin fell from Kurt’s hand and bounced to the floor as he turned. A hand came to rest over his mouth as his eyes went wide. Chandler’s laughing mockery echoed in his mind-twisting his thoughts as a violent shudder rolled up his back. Tears balled up in his eyes, and all sorts of emotions exploded upon his face.

An arm fell on a young man’s hand, as Pam gazed into the shocked blue eyes. Her lower lip pushed out and then she drew in a breath and then silently said, “Believe me, you get over it with time. You’ll never forget, but you’ll heal.”

“Does Blaine know?”

“No.”

“Oh, Pam . . . how can I?”

“Kurt, I’m telling you so that you know you’re not alone. I love you as I love my son. I have wanted to tell you for weeks . . . but you weren’t ready.”

“Is that why you came to London?”

“No, but here and now, the time is right. You’ve been climbing out of the mire. It’s time for you to get on with your life and put it all behind you.”

A deep breath expanded Kurt’s lungs, and then he suddenly threw his arms around the woman beside him and buried his head into her shoulder. Food slipped to the floor or got hung up in their laps. The foot bound in a medical device smashed into his coffee, knocking it over.

A hand stroked the young man’s back as Pam held him tight. In a low voice, she pleaded, “Please, don’t tell him anything.”

Teeth raked his lips, and Kurt swallowed and then whispered. “It’ll be hard not to, but it’s your story to tell.”

“Kurt, I promise you.” Pam wiped her eyes. “I will tell Blaine and Copper, but not right now.”

A mind made frail by age, demanded this go no further. Caught between two different types of despair, some aspects of the brain introduced music. Kurt and his mother faded into the faint light of the grand theatre only to find them replaced with a wooden baton. On stage, the conductor raised his hands, and the violins pulled on soft, simple cords accompanied by deep baritone voices. Moving his arm following the silent motions of the actors, New Zealand of the late seventeen hundreds came to life on the screen above the orchestra. Men in bright red uniforms trudged through thick forest with their rifles slung over their shoulders, leading three women with eight children, a portly gentleman and five young men in well-tailored period costumes. Trailing down the lush slope behind the civilians and soldiers, sweaty men carried trunks, large bales and crates from longboats pushed up onto the beach. Behind them in the bay, three British frigates and a man-of-war sat at anchor.

The harmony of instruments and voice filled an otherwise silent theatre as the theme of the scene took shape. Blaine watched as the thick forest gave way to the wooden walls of a fortification. Paying attention proved hard because he felt an emotional pull from the audience. When the tempo of the music picked up, Blaine said something to the director and stepped down from the stage.

From the end of the row, Blaine noticed the look on his mother’s face and the wetness under Kurt’s eyes. Walking along the line of empty seats, he sat next to his mother and asked in hushed tones, “Are you two, alright?”

Keeping her voice down, Pam lied, “Kurt got a bit emotional.”

Blaine gave his mother a serious look, and then he glanced at his husband. His hand reached across his mother’s chest. “We can go?”

“Blaine, I’m alright.” Kurt’s hand instinctively found the one offered to him. “Even though I know the music, hearing it here moved me.”

Loneliness struck an old man as he shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Fear mingled with the ache of his engorged heart, bringing tears to his eyes. The head rolled to his right as blurring eyes stared up at the wrinkled face of the man he had loved to eight decades. A loving word formed in an old mind and memory carried it through to its completion as his younger self muttered, “Kurt?”

“Blaine, seriously, I feel safe, and you’re working.” Kurt reached to his husband.

“This is sweet, boys, but you’re squishing my boobs.” Pam quietly pointed out with a straight face.

Two emotional men abruptly pulled back, and Blaine sputtered, “Sorry, mom.”

Stifling a laugh, Pam patted her son on his arm. “They were your favourite toys when you were a baby.”

Heat rose in Blaine's cheeks as his ears turned red and then glanced away with an attentive look on his face. His surprise tumbled into a frown as he looked toward the technicians moving about on the musicians while they continued to play.

“What’s going on?” Kurt asked in hushed tones.

“The editor wanted a proper sound test,” Blaine answered. “The next run will be real, so you’ll need to be utterly silent.”

Pam stared at her with a sweet smile. “You wrote this?”

“Three and a half hours worth.” Blaine beamed.

“It’s like Gilbert and Sullivan.” Pam’s face revealed her thought patterns.

Her son’s head pulled back. “Gilbert and Sullivan?”

“More like Puccini.” Kurt countered with a charming smile,

“All I know is it’s beautiful.” Pam gave Kurt an odd look and then popped a salvaged berry into her mouth.

“Thanks, mom.” Blaine smiled. “With luck, we’ll only need two or three takes, and then there is one last piece. Then we get two days in London before flying home. Oh, Ang is flipping the bill for the two of you.”

Kurt’s chin dropped.

“Blaine!” Pam fought to keep her voice down.

“Mom, he wants to, and I am not going to argue with him. He would like you two to join us for dinner tonight and the crew party on Wednesday.” Blaine cocked an ear toward the stage as his face turned suddenly serious. “That was awful. Will you excuse me?”

Getting up, Blaine jogged down toward the stage where the conductor brought the orchestra to a halt. Ang met him at the stairs while singing the music director and conductor to join them.

Pam looked puzzled. “I heard nothing out of place.”

“Someone hit a series of sour notes,” Kurt told her.

“I guess you would know.” Pam let out a loud sigh. “Thank you, Kurt.”

“Pam, it’s not my place, but I want to know how you handled it.”

“It wasn’t easy, and Daniel . . . well . . . let’s not go there.” Pam sighed. “Like you, I had two wonderful children to help me find myself again. The love of my boys held me together.”

Blue eyes gazed at his mother-in-law silhouetted by the dim light and then looked toward his husband as he explained something to the conductor. Half smiling, he added, “Blaine has been my rock, and the twins have kept me busy enough, so I did not dwell on things. You owe it to Blaine not to wait too long. He’s suffered, well, not like myself, but his pain is real.”

An apprehensive mother looked at Kurt and drew in a deep breath. “I’ve watched the two of you and listened to my son crying over the phone. He deserves to know, but I’m not quite there yet.”

With a slow nod, Kurt’s attention shifted back to Pam with pleading eyes. In another time, old Blaine felt his throat constrict.

Pam placed a hand on Kurt’s knee and softly said, “Telling you, helped more than you could even imagine Kurt.”

“I will be there if you want me to?”

“We’ll see, but for now, let’s keep it to ourselves. I promise you. I’ll tell him, but let’s get past the present pain first.”

Kurt’s face rippled with unresolved emotion, and the two of them settled into a warm sensation of healing. On stage, the opening sequence repeated several times until the conductor called for a break. The film and music directors walked up to the musicians and made a statement, each followed by many bobbing heads. Most of the orchestra put their instruments down as the musician and the chorus scattered. Several marched up the aisle toward the lobby where refreshment waited, while others vanished into the wings. Many remained seated and either talked or ran through parts of the score.

To the left of the orchestra, Blaine sat at the piano, turning sheet music and making notes. He looked to be in the zone, with his brow furrowed with concentration. The people moving around him did not interrupt until a well-built technician walk up and leaned against the large instrument. Blaine glanced up, and the man smiled down at the pianist. Suddenly the muscular man sat on the edge of the bench and wrapped as arm about the composer. Blaine slid along the bench as if he wanted to get away from the man only to have the man inched closer.

In the corner of his eyes, Blaine noted the look on Kurt’s face and his mother saying something. Moments later, the two strode up onto the stage and walked toward the piano, where a twenty-something man draped himself over an uncomfortable Blaine. Swinging his legs to the right, Blaine pulled away from the technician’s grip and got to his feet. The second his right hand found Kurt’s left Blaine soundly kissed his husband. The buff man scowled and started checking microphones.

“Who was that?” Pam inquired as her eyes followed the handsome technician.

“He’s the one who’s been chasing me since I got here.” Blaine rubbed his husband’s hand.

“You didn’t tell me he’s that big.” Kurt kept his voice down.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Boys, let’s keep it PG.” Pam pointed to the man walking toward them with the help of a cane. “We’re not alone.”

“Good to see you again, Kurt,” The director shifted his cane and offered his hand.

“I hope my husband has not been any trouble,” Kurt grinned.

“I’ve worked with worse,” Ang smiled and placed a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “Our young musical genius here has said nothing but good things about you. He showed me a video of you on stage. You have an excellent voice, young man. I can see you both of you are going places.”

“Was Jerry being a nuisance?” the director questioned with a look to his right.

“Nothing I could not handle,” Blaine replied and then he unfolded himself from the man he loved. “Ang, I would like you to meet my mother, Pam.”

“A pleasure.” Ang shook her hand. “You have a talented son.”

“I’ve known for a while,” Pam said to the director as she placed a hand on her son’s upper arm. “He’s always wanted to be the center of attention.”

Ang nodded. “Well, he certainly caught my attention. Did he pass on my invitation to dinner and the wrap-up party?”

“He mentioned it.” Pam winked at her son.

Ang grinned and then looked at Blaine, patting him on the shoulder. “He has quite a career ahead of him and a place in my next movie. If he wants it?”

Blaine managed to say, “Thank you, Ang.”

“Two more pieces and that’s its a wrap,” Ang called out to the entire cast.

A cheer rose from the crew and musicians.

Kurt gave his husband a sad look. “I guess we should go back to our seats.”

Turning to the frolicsome technician, the composer asked, “Jerry, could you please get a couple of stools and place them beside the piano.”

The beefy man grimaced and then fulfilled the request. Placing two tall stools between the piano and the edge of the stage, he went back to work.

“What’s up?” Kurt looked apprehensively at the director.

“Don’t look at me. Your husband’s singing, not me.” Ang smiled, and they turned away and walked toward the head sound technician. Elsewhere, the conductor rapped his stick on the music stand. Moving chairs, instruments warming up and a mishmash of sound played off the roof of the auditorium.

“Take a seat.” Blaine indicated the stools as he sat on the piano bench.

Tugging the stools closer to the piano, Kurt waited for Pam to sit.

Running his fingers over the keys, Blaine blew his husband a kiss. Turning the sheet music, Blaine softly announced, “We are going to play through one screen, and then, if all is right, we’ll continue onto the credit music. I want you here because I’m going to sing a song. I wrote for you on the last day of summer when we went back to opposing schools.”

Kurt gasped.

Noting the sentiment in Kurt’s eyes, Pam took her son-in-law’s hand. The light faded, and a scene flickered on the screen where a woman sat by a pond. Sauntering down a rock path through formal gardens, a handsome young man came up behind her. The young officer sat a respectable distance away and together, they watched the sunset quietly talking. The sway of the undulating chords set the tempo accompanying the heartfelt moment. Slowly the handsome redhead officer turned to the beautiful young woman and leaned to taste the forbidden lips of the daughter of the king’s military governor. The gentile woman feigned shock even though her bright eyes stared at the handsome face. The two lean into each other while the red of the sunset glistens off the sparkling water of Cook Strait.

The music continued as the couple sat there and then a bright flash in the corner of the screen give warning. The conductor’s arms go up, and the instruments come to rest as he peeked at the director. A few seconds later, the famous man got the nod, and his baton came down on the music stand with a loud rap. The musicians prepare, and with a sway of his arm, the strings softly drew long cords following the central theme heard throughout the movie. Several bars later, the choir and wind instruments helped recreate a montage of the various themes. At a point, Blaine’s fingers danced across the keys, bringing depth to the music. Allowing the pianist to set the pace, the conductor followed the changing notes as Blaine began to sing.

_There comes a time in life,_   
_You know you are happy,_   
_Life is full of wonder,_   
_And dreams are beautiful,_   
_I fall even further._

_Windows reflect the eyes,_   
_The mirror to the soul lies bare,_   
_Your touch moved the heavens,_   
_And your eyes eclipsed the sun,_   
_Each day apart ages me._

_I stare at the rain,_   
_Are the feelings the same,_   
_You are my all,_   
_I miss you._

_Reflections in a tear,_   
_Are the mirror of my life,_   
_My peace, solitude, and forgiveness,_   
_My healing light and never-ending,_   
_I know I want no other._

_I stare at the rain,_   
_Are the feelings the same,_   
_You are my all,_   
_With all my heart, I love you,_   
_With all my heart, I love you,_   
_With all my heart, I love you._

Wet hazel eyes lock on moist blue as the seductively quiet of violins and cellos continued for a while longer. The auditorium eventually became silent and heavy with emotion.

Suddenly, Ang yelled, “That’s a wrap!”


	32. Ovations

The third curtain called ended when the luxurious, heavy fabric drew across the front of the stage. The clapping continued as the sold-out crowd vanished from view, and the auditorium lights came up. Streams of brightness flashed across the stage, striking the bottom of the props where the curtain allowed the brilliance through. The all-male cast, attired in their period piece dresses, gathered about the principal actors offering happy hugs and cheerful slaps on the back. 

The Anderson-Hummel’s flew directly to Lima for a reunion with their little gems. Katherine stomped her feet when her fathers did not present her with Prince George but laughed when she got a look at the gifts. She loved the tartan dress, and Alexander made a face when Kurt held up a kilt. Later that day, they ran around the Hummel residence, playing knight and princess complete with shrill screaming. Husband’s exchanged knowing looks when Alex ran by wearing his sister’s dress.

The family spent an extended weekend in Ohio before returning to New York in time to vote. A few days later, Kurt pouted when Kurt’s doctor denied his request for a green light to return to the stage. On Friday night, before the curtain went up, Blaine and Kurt stepped out onto the stage to thunderous applause. Kurt showed off his bedazzled medical boot and then apologized for not being able to perform for a few more weeks. During the absence of the dynamic duo, ticket sales slumped as evident by the empty seats the night Blaine returned. The backers worried and then the public relations people started to spin stories about Kurt’s coming return. Pictures of Kurt sitting front and center surrounded by drag queens or with students from high school LBGTQ clubs resulted in increased sales. 

While Blaine shined on stage next to Kurt’s understudy, Kurt did not sit about the condominium doing anything. Determined to be part of the action, Kurt watched and commented as Blaine practiced with the cast for four days before his return debut. He looked after the twins, and, on occasion, took them to the theatre where they played in the changing room under the watchful eye of someone they trusted. During intermission, Kurt would be it the lobby greeting the crowds and signing autographs as part of the public relations binge. One night, while working with Jesse and his protégée co-director, he brainstormed and event to benefit their charity. 

On a run of the mill snowy Sunday night in January, the local and national entertainment networks covered the red carpet as various celebrities and dignitaries strutted for the cameras beneath a long awning. The sight of police motorcycles with their lights flashing, followed by dark sports utility vehicles and two elongated Mercedes, created an instant buzz. The camera went wild when the surprise celebrities stepped out of their car. A gentleman exited the car first and then held his hand out to assist his companion. Two men in tuxedos and lady got out of the other Mercedes directly behind the first. Together the five walked up the carpet to the cheers of those who braved the light snow to watch. They mingled in the lobby for a few minutes before the theatre owner escorted them to a private box overlooking the stage. 

Blaine saw them from the corner of the stage moments before the orchestra started up, and the curtain parted. Somehow, he knew Kurt peeked from where he waited in the wings for his queue. During the performance, his eyes sometimes wandered that way, or he snuck a peep between scenes. Now, with the sound of the audience murmuring in the background like distant music, Blaine felt relieved. His ears gave warning of what would come as cameramen and reporters gathered in an area cordoned off by police to the left of the stage. Elsewhere, Jesse and the publicist herded the excited cast into two lines. 

Free of the crush, Blaine threw his arms about Kurt and enthusiastically kissed him. The two men hugged for a while and then Blaine pulled back with an adoring smile on his face. “You were marvellous.”

“I know,” Kurt’s right hand confidently passed half an inch over his hair. He gazed at his husband with a smug little grin. 

Swatting his lover on the arm, Blaine beamed. “Stand a little bit closer and, I will show you how marvellous you are.”

“You naughty boy.” Kurt purred with a mischievous grin.

Moist lips pressed against Kurt’s cheek and then Blaine took Kurt’s left hand. A warm sensation spread throughout Blaine’s body with the joy of emotional rebirth. It felt like forever had passed since he felt this way. Blaine had to smile. 

“What?” Kurt asked with a strange look.

“I love you,” Blaine leaned in again and kissed his husband.

“I know where you went,” Kurt kissed him back, “and I love you too.”

“Guys?” Jesse called to them from the halfway point of the stage. The man tapped his watch.

Squeezing Kurt’s hand tight, Blaine looked toward the back of the stage where the cast. A fond leer anchored Blaine as he watched Terri march forward with an anxious look on her face. 

“We’re coming,” Kurt told the anxious stage director.

“They’re on the way down.” Terri looked worried. “We need to be in position before they get here,” 

“They’re friends,” Blaine responded with a little smile. “They’ll understand.”

Terri shook her head. “You might have gone out drinking with them, but that doesn’t mean you have to be tardy.”

“Yes, mother,” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“Oh, speaking about mother, there was a call from your mothers.” Terri pushed the two men to their spots inside the mock-up of a period ballroom.

“Was there a message?” Kurt asked.

“You can ask them.” Terri placed them beside Jesse up-front. “George has them off in the wings.”

“Should—” Kurt glanced that way.

“No,” Terri firmly stated.

“But Pam—” Kurt insisted.

“No.” Terri pushed Kurt onto his mark at the end of the line next to his amused husband.

A moment later, the sister of the King of England and the First Husband walked around a corner with the theatre owner and a horde of lesser officials. Anne wore a light green dress under a calf-length tan coloured coat with a matching hat. The princess laughed with the former president as the security detachment discretely flowed out from the narrow door. Dame Judith Cummingham, wearing in a bright blue dress under a cream coat, acknowledged her friends with a small wave.

Pride swelled Blaine’s chest because everything fell into place better than he hoped. Her highness’ protocol person got hold of him in early December to make arrangements for Princess Anne to walk in the front door. After briefly explaining their charity event and that Bill Clinton had committed to attending, communications channels opened with the White House. The secret service showed up early one morning a week ago to look the theatre over, and a hidden presence remained after that. 

Kurt glanced at Blaine just before Princess Anne turned her attention to the two stars. Each bowed the heads on her approach and shook the hand she offered each of them. In a voice meant for the reporters, she said, “It is wonderful to see the two of you again. I enjoyed your performance, and your adaptation of the classic My Fair Lady is a modern masterpiece. I hope you bring your masterpiece to the West End.”

“Your highness, it’s kind of you to honour us with your presence,” Kurt replied. The two husbands decided earlier, Kurt would take the prime position to greet their guests. “This may not have been a private concert as it was the last time, but the cause is important to so many.”

Princess Anne smiled and then politically replied, “I am pleased to lend my name to a cause. I hope you would consider expanding your efforts to England, where you will find me a willing patron.”

Blaine’s mind sputtered at the ramifications of Princess Anne’s suggestion. 

As if he knew, Kurt inclined his head and smoothly replied, “Your offer is most gracious your highness. Allow us to discuss the merit of expansion across the pond with the board of directors.”

Anne nodded with a little smile and glanced at one of the people standing at a respectful distance. The young lady nodded as if she acknowledged intent. 

Careful with his choose his words, Blaine added, “Your highness, the cast was overjoyed this afternoon when we told them you would be attending tonight’s special performance. It was cute how some of them reacted.”

Princess Anne laughed and then said, “I am holding a little get together later tonight. Judith has the details.”

“We would be honoured, your highness,” Blaine inclined his head, knowing Princess Anne had only so much time. In the back of his mind, he calculated the logistics of an extended evening out. 

The princess moved on to Jesse, and Bill stepped forward to shake Kurt’s hand. Listening to two conversations, Blaine heard Princess Anne asked when Rachel would return to the stage and offered them an invitation to the festivities later. Jesse inclined his head, accepting for himself and his pregnant wife with a gracious smile. Rachel would be beyond upset if she missed this opportunity.

On his other side, Bill said to Kurt, “Well, done my boy. I hope your ankle doesn't bother you?”

“I have a brace on that my doctor told me to wear for the next few months.” Kurt looked down at his leg. “It was uncomfortable when I first started to rehearse. Adding another sock helped.”

“We can’t have you doing a face plant on a night like this.”

“I’ll wait until the middle of the week.”

“That a boy, go big and make a good show of it.”

“I hope not,” Blaine chuckled as he shook the former president’s hand. “Nice to see you, Bill. How’s Hillary?”

“Busy is all I can say,” the former president replied.

Kurt leaned in and silently complained, “I can’t believe she selected Sue Silvester to be her new vice president.”

“Politics and that is all you need to know.” Bill kept his voice down to an almost inaudible hush. 

“We have better be careful about what we say,” Blaine whispered, rolling his eyes to the reporters. Blaine nor Kurt could wrap their heads around the pairing. 

Privately, Blaine had his suspicion Hillary’s decision came down to the fact she inherited a nation threatened by an emboldened ultra-right wing and division in Washington. Burt barely retained his seat in a stunning voter rejection of the status quo during the twenty-twenty election. The nastiness of the primaries created an atmosphere where seventeen percent of the vote went to independent candidates who, a year later, formed a third national party. In twenty-twenty-four, many thought this new party would fade, but they ended up winning twenty-three percent of the seats in congress and nineteen percent in the senate. 

The loser of the twenty-twenty elections did not leave the office well. Some blamed the former national leader for the shootings and two bombings, which marred the most recent election threatening the upcoming inauguration. As soon as he took office, the man who defeated the loser, set on a road of reforms that inflamed the far right. Following his brazen assassination, many suggested his reforms came too fast and went too far. Shortly after she became president, Hillary slowed them down and began national consultations meant to ease the tension. She, like many, feared the domestic friction might result in increased civil unrest. 

That did not mean things calmed down. A past president remained defiant and continued to burn up twitter with his remarks. The Federal Bureau of Investigation tried to tie the carefully executed assassinations of several high-level politicians to the man with no success. Of course, he screamed witch hunt. Oddly, a confident ex-high school coach spoke out about the former president calling him an idiot I so many words on national television. The swift reaction on twitter would have crushed others, but Sue shot back with a barrage of her own. While it cooked her goose in the eyes of many, it gained her increased notoriety in another political arena. Blaine found it bewildering that no matter who the woman put her foot in it, she always came out on top somehow. 

Current politics made Blaine nervous and for a good reason. Washington ebbed and swayed like a piece of wood bobbing in the waves as politicians, businesses and the voters found it hard to adjust to the new reality. In both houses, the third-party played kingmaker because no one faction had a clear majority. Some continued to say the status quo would return, but Blaine and Kurt seriously doubted that. Even Burt grudgingly admitted that voter dissatisfaction indicated this new reality had longevity.

“Hillary wanted me to pass on her best wishes for tonight,” Bill stated for the press, followed by a bright smile. “She’s looking forward to seeing you in Washington in nine days. Don’t lose your voices between then and now.”

“We’ll be careful,” Blaine knocked his shoulder into Kurt. 

Bill grinned and then asked, “Any word on how much we raised?” 

“I haven’t heard what the final count is yet, but at the second intermission, we raised one hundred and thirty-six thousand,” Blaine replied.

“Excellent,” Bill’s head bobbed up and down as if the news pleased him. “When we add that to tonight’s proceeds, we should be doing well. Dave and Phil are working on the books, but it looks like we had a successful first year. We need to get together and talk next steps, especially after her highness’ offer. Let’s wait until after the party in Washington.”

Kurt’s eyes went to the cameras and reporters before asking, “Any word on their other project.”

“It’s still in process, but I am sure they will let you know the outcome,” Bill said with a wink, and then he moved on to the Jesse.

The princess and Bill made their way down the front of the line and, true to form, someone asked for an autograph. Forever representing the crown, Anne politely declined the teary eyes young man in an elegant early period dress. The older teenager wildly blushed, and the princess broke with protocol and touched him on the arm. The flabbergasted young man’s eyes went wide, and for a second, Blaine thought he would faint. 

When the quests had finished saying their hellos, Princess Anne looked to Blaine, and he trotted over. In a quiet voice, she asked, “Is that your mother in the wings?”

“Yes, your highness,” Blaine answered. “Would you like to speak to her?”

“Yes, please,” the princess replied.

A hand went up to catch Kurt’s attention, and Blaine signalled he should join them. The dapper man walked over with Judith as his side, Blaine excused himself and vanished into the wing, leaving his charming husband speaking to the British Royal. Weaving through the jumble of set pieces offstage, Blaine found Pam with Carole and George in a dark corner. After telling them they had to play by the rules because of the press, Blaine returned with three other people in tow. 

“Your highness,” Pam curtsied and took Anne’s extended hand.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Anderson,” the princes properly replied. “I was telling your son that I enjoyed the performance as I did the first time.”

“I get chills each time I see it,” Pam quietly replied.

Princess Anne smiled, and her eyes went to the people with Pam.

“Your highness,” Blaine politely interrupted after noticing the pause. “I would like to present Kurt’s stepmother Carole Hummel and a good friend, so ours, George Sinclair.

Carole looked a little pale as she followed Pam’s lead. In a less than confident tone, she stated, “It’s an honour to greet you, your highness.”

“Mrs. Hummel, the honour is mine.” Princess Anne smiled. “Your son told me your husband is a congressman.”

“He is, your highness,” Carole replied with increased confidence. As a wife of a politician, she had met several heads of state, but meeting royalty made her knees weak. “He wanted to be here tonight, but events in Washington occupy much of his time.”

The princess bobbed and then stated, “You must be proud of your son and his husband. The two of them impressed me when they sang for me in London. After tonight, I remain impressed.”

“They could not stop going on about meeting you when they came home, your highness,” Carole smiled. “Kurt literally bounced on his toes while telling the story.”

A son gave his mother a look as he blushed. 

“Kurt, if it helps, when I first met Elton John, I was giddy for days.” Anne winked at him and then her façade slipped as he turned to a balding man. “George, you old sheepdog, you’re still clicking your heels?” 

Tilting his head, George softly replied, “I’m slowing down, your highness.”

Anne glanced at the two performers and then fondly replied, “Margarette and I found Madam Lipkinka’s antics entertaining during his days of sashaying around Soho.”

“We were all younger at one time, your highness.” George looked himself over. “I did look fabulous, didn’t I.”

“You still do,” Kurt complimented George. 

“You will be attending the party later?” Anne said to George.

“I would love to, your highness,” George smiled. “It’ll be like the old days.”

Anne gave him a look and then laughed. She suddenly looked to her right, where she saw someone signalling her. “Time to go. Pam, Carole, please feel free to drop by with your sons.”

“We may be a little late, your highness,” Blaine stated as his eyes shifted to the security people and back. “We have to make arrangements for our twins and Rachel’s daughter.”

“I can stay and look after them,” Carole injected.

Princess Anne turned her attention to Carole and said, “You can never remove the mother from grandmother.”

“No, your highness.” Carole softly responded. “However, if we can set something up on short notice, I’d love to attend.”

Anne then turned to face the official staring at his watch and walked off to join him. Bill Clinton looked ready to leave as the secret service gathered about the dignitaries. He waved at his friends before departing the stage for the waiting cars. 

“Wow?” Carole leaned on Pam for support.

“You would think she was stuffy, but she more down to earth than the one would think,” Pam patted the other grandmother on the shoulder. 

“Janice was willing to watch the kids for the night.” Blaine reached into the inner pocket of his coat and then rolled his eyes. “Forgot, still in costume.”

“Boys, go get out of those outfits.” Pam directed with a look toward Mr. St. James. “It’ll be all sorted by the time you get back.”

“We can’t stay out late, mom,” Blaine pleaded as he remembered how Pam whined in London.

Pam glanced at her watch and said, “No, we can’t.”

Blaine gave his mother a puzzled look as Kurt dragged him away. Down in their changing room, their elegant white tie and tail suits hung on the rack. In the wardrobe, four identical sets of each costume hung at the ready. Overnight they would be cleaned and pressed, but the rigours of nightly shows matched with weekend matinees took their toll on the garments.

Sitting side by side in their underwear, the two men stripped the makeup from their faces in silence. The curly-headed man slumped forward in the high, swivel stool stewing in his thoughts. While he enjoyed the surprise, the tension he felt from his mother caused a tightness in his chest. The cloth he pulled down his face paused next to his nose and stared at himself in the mirror. The upper lip passed over his lower lip, and Blaine sat back. Hazel eyes gazed hazel eyes, and for the first time, Blaine saw his brooding features for himself. The rigidity of his jaw created a small ridge and his lines crinkled his brow. Something happened, and he just knew it.

“Blaine?” Kurt quietly asked as he turned to face his husband.

With a shake of his head, Blaine cleared his mind and then turned to his lover with an affectionate smile. “Hey there.”

“Hey, back,” Kurt responded.

“Have I told you that I love you yet today?”

“Often, but I know that face. What’s bugging you? The after-party?”

“I’m looking forward to it if Janice agrees.”

“She said she would take the kids for the night, so I think we’re free.”

“I guess. Did my mother seem a bit tense to you?”

“No.” Kurt’s brows pulled together. “Why?”

Blaine shrugged. “When I went backstage, she seemed distracted.”

“Your dad again?”

“Could be.”

A finger wandered across Blaine’s chest, finding a nipple. Playing with it, Kurt leaned closer to his husband and blew in his ear. A shudder rocked Blaine’s body, and then bright hazel eyes found twinkling blue. Blaine’s shoulders came up, and he bent forward to one side as if defending himself. 

Pushing the hand away, Blaine grumbled, “We don’t have time for this.”

“We have time,” Kurt’s hand fell against his husband’s crotch. 

“Kurt, we have people waiting for us,” Blaine objected.

“Shower. Now!” Kurt took Blaine’s hand. 

“Kurt?”

“You’re stressed, and I know a good way to get rid of it.” 

Grabbing Blaine’s hand, Kurt tugged and together, the two of them ran off to the adjoining washroom. Twenty-five minutes later, the sensation of relief penetrating Blaine improving his mood. With the hardships of the past year behind them, the past two months felt like a second honeymoon. 

The women sat in the fourth row of the theatre with George, Jesse and a couple of the cast members. Joyous laughter rolled up into the cavernous heights of the stage as George doubled over into the back of the chair in front of him. Carole leaned her head against one of the young cast giggling away while Pam tousled George’s hair. Holding hand Blaine and Kurt stood on the edge of the stage, staring down at them with smirks. It did not take much to imagine George revealing tidbits of his checkered life.

Old Blaine remembered feeling apprehensive when his younger version walked into the multi-roomed suite near the top of the Ritz Carlton. Celebrities and New York upper crust mingled around the large living room, including June Dolloway. The ageing New York matron greeted them warmly, but it soon became apparent she had some major health concerns. Leaning heavily on her cane, she lumbered along as if inflicted by constant pain. It saddened a young couple to see her this way, but it answered questions concerning her absence as of late. True to form, June insisted her two jaybirds sing. It would be the last time they see her in public. 

With a loud sigh, and old man rested his head on Kurt’s still hand and swallowed his sorrow. June died three years later, leaving a massive hole in Blaine and Kurt’s life. Neither man realized how important she had become to them. Shortly after her death, they found out exactly how June though of them. In her will, she set up a half-billion-dollar trust to fund arts projects naming the to the board. Another large chunk went to other pet projects, followed by disbursements to those she loved. The ten million dollars she left the couple came as a surprise, however the news that Blaine remained June of her son, shocked.

The heart thumped in the chest, and the pain in his torso increased as the mind rolled back in time. Sad eyes looked up toward the picture on the shelf, finding one of Kurt, Pam, Carole, Princess Anne and Bill at the party. The evening proved magical except for a moment he wished he could forget.

“Mom?” young Blaine quietly inquired as he walked up behind Pam. 

“Ah, Blaine.” Pam looked startled as she turned from the window she gazed through. “The lights in Central Park wrinkled on the thin layer of snow blanketing the city is amazing. I know you love New York, but the buildings are so tall.”

Taking his mother’s arm, Blaine led her to a less exposed area of the suite and asked, “You seem preoccupied. Did dad do something?”

The colour drained from Pam’s face, and she looked down. “I think I would like to go back to the hotel.”

“I’ll let Kurt and Carole know,” Blaine suggested.

“I would like them to come as well,” Pam admitted, more to herself, and then she gazed directly into her son’s eyes. “There is something I need to tell you and your brother.”


	33. Afternoon in the Park

Sprawled out on the couch, Blaine leaned up against the man he loved. Wearing shorts, no shoes and a t-shirt, he held the folded entertainment section of the New York Times in his hands. Humming to himself without a care as to where his fuzzy hair went, moments like this made life worth it. Pressed in it the arm of the couch with one leg up and pressed into the back cushions, Kurt wore baggy, but trendy, pants and sweater with no shoes. His arms wrapped about his husband as he rested his chin on the top of Blaine’s head. One of Kurt’s hands rested on his lover’s chest and the other absently played with all his enduring curls

The table in front of the couch looked like the kids ate breakfast there. The plates sported the remains of Blaine’s homemade blueberry pancakes, Kurt’s banana muffins and a bowl contained the few remaining berries. Half a dozen trade magazines, a pad of paper with a pen and two, oversized coffee mugs rounded out the mess. A perfect morning, after taking the kids to kindergarten, they hurried home to pamper themselves with some ‘me’ time. During darkest days of Kurt’s melancholy, they would snuggle in this manner if only for the comfort. Over the months, he used it as a way to judge his husband’s moods. Today her enjoyed the feeling of Kurt leaned against him even though Blaine’s heart tingled uneasily.

The paper ruffled as the corner drooped as Blaine continued ready the lengthy article. Slowly his eyes rolled up toward the ceiling and then around the room. Shafts of light played over the smoked glass doors of the shelves installed to the right of the fireplace behind the piano. The wall beside the French doors to the dining room extended out ten inches where a built-in, solid glass display cabinet reached to the outside wall. Thick sparkling glass shelves highlighted by bright halogen lights held mementos of their lives together. He sighed. 

The hand gentling caressing Blaine’s upper arm pulled his husband tighter, and Kurt quietly asked, “Blaine?”

“Yes, honey?” Blaine negligently responded as he rolled his head in a lazy arch. 

“You still upset?”

“No . . . well, a bit.”

“Cooper did not mean to upset you.”

“He was just being an ass.”

“Blaine?”

“I know, but he did not have to bring it up again. Accepting the fact my dad was not my dad was easy, once the shock wore off. Christ, he has been nothing, but―” Blaine groaned. “Chicharon . . . really? I’m not a crispy pork finger food!”

Kurt bit his lip, trying to hide a small smile as he rested his chin on his husband’s shoulder.

“Don’t you dare cluck?” Blaine complained, having felt the little shudder in his lover’s chest.

Lips gently pressed into the mass of curls, and then Kurt murmured, “Would I do that?” 

A mop of curly hair fell against Kurt’s chin as Blaine’s head fell back. Pam contacted his brother in Las Angeles when they returned to the hotel after leaving the Princess Anne’s New York party. Blaine’s jaw dropped as he watched his mother reveal a shocking revelation. Nine months before Blaine’s birth, the Anderson’s entertained Daniel’s extended family from Manila. After a few too many drinks, Daniel’s rich half-brother Carlo attached Pam in the basement. Pam spoke of her shame to her sons and how she put on a brave face the next day as she prepared brunch with Daniel’s Filipino mother. When Blaine came into the world, her husband proved to be oblivious to the differences between the children. The dam burst shortly after Blaine turned four, and Daniel’s half-sister visited from the Philippines. Pam cried as she told her sons that Daniel accepted money rather than see Pam press charges against her brother. Blaine grew up in the house the payout bought. 

Comforted by Carole, Pam tearfully spoke of how Daniel hit and threatened her. She withdrew into herself and did as her husband demanded. After Cooper left to start his own life, she suffered as she watched her husband slowly turn his back on Blaine. Then, Daniel found Blaine playing with himself watching gay porn, and his anger shook her to her core. That night she stood up to her husband, starting the long spiral toward divorce.

For once, Cooper did not have a word to say, and from her reaction. Pam’s comment that she told Kurt in London floored and angered Blaine as a triumphal evening disintegrated into a fit of tears. Two husbands walked the well-lit paths of Central Park well into the morning before they went home to get a few hours’ sleep. By showtime, Blaine had pulled himself together, and the Monday performance went off without a hitch. Later that evening, after one drink too many, he toppled into bed, leaving Kurt to deal with the kids. As expected, the twins reacted to the tension, and it took a while for them to settle down. 

Nimble fingers stretched for the table, and Kurt gripped the handle of a mug, and Blaine effortlessly flowed with him. Lifting the cup to his lips, he made a face, Kurt muttered, “Cold.”

The paper drooped in front of Blaine, and he sighed. His mouth twisted from side to side, and he sighed again. “I’ll get us new ones.”

“Na. I’m enjoying holding my adorable hubby, letting him know I will always love him. You helped me all those months. I can help you for a while.”

“Thank you, my sweet.”

“Forget Cooper. He was just teasing.”

“I know. It’s just . . . I don’ want to think about it.”

“We can go out for a late breakfast.” Kurt squeezed his husband. “Stans wouldn’t be too busy now.”

“And miss the opportunity for the breakfast of champions.” Blaine cooed.

“Humm,” Kurt kissed the back of his husband’s head again. “It was fun.”

“Very invigorating.” Blaine purred, and then he changed the subject. “They’re still writing favourably.”

Gulping down the rest of his chilled coffee, Kurt put the mug down. “The novelty may wear off.” 

“Kurt, we’ll make it.”

“It’s a fickle business.”

“Life is fickle. You’re fickle.”

“Me?” Kurt lightly cuffed the man he loved on the arm.

“Damned right, you are.” Blaine grinned. “You remember the flowers you gave me before West Side Story.”

“Yeah. You deserved them.”

“And it appeased yourself.”

“Blaine?”

“Kurt?”

“That was a while ago, but yes, my ego was a bit bruised.”

“It was so cute and so perfect. You had your hopes set on the lead and along comes this charming, boy with glued down hair to steal it out from under you without even trying.”

“That sweet boy had my heart.”

“Ditto.”

Kurt shifted behind his husband. “Okay, what’s on your mind, other than chicharon?”

“Haha.” Blaine released a long breath and bit his upper lip. “Nothing.”

“Right?” Kurt licked the back of Blaine’s ear and changed the subject. “Is the premiere date set?”

Rubbing Kurt’s knee, Blaine bent backward stretching to sneak a peak of his husband. “July tenth in Las Angeles.”

“Our first red carpet.”

“With you holding my hand, everyone will be jealous.”

“When do I get to hear the rest of your private works?”

“I’m saving them for special occasions.” Blaine beamed and then kissed Kurt’s hand. “Or to soothe the savage, Kurt

Kurt frowned. “Really?”

“Really.” Blaine playfully bobbed his head back and forth so that his fussy hair tickled his husband. “Why don’t we go pick up the kids and make an afternoon of it.”

Trying to ignore the piles of hair tickling his nose, Kurt replied, “It’s a beautiful day out there. We can take them down to the playground in Battery Park.” 

“Right, lets clean up and then we can go pick up our little dreams.” Blaine pulled himself free of his husband and sat up. 

Shortly after lunch, they extracted their excited children from kindergarten. As soon as little feet touched the grass, the children took off running about chased each other. Trailing behind their little darlings, two adults exchanged glanced and giggled. At first, they pretended not to catch their little darling and then Kurt snagged Kate and lifted her into the air. Alex turned away from any attempt to pick him up. Instead, Blaine drew him into a big hug. Hazel eyed spotted a man standing off to one side, watching with a disapproving look. Time and experience taught both husband’s there would always be people who think only a man and a woman should raise children. 

Herding the twins to the playground, the parents joyfully frolicked with their offspring. The closer they got to the swings, the loud the screams of other children excited the twins. Suddenly a boy roared up over the bank to hug Alex. Kate wheeled about with a confused look and ran toward four-year-old Mark. A woman in her late twenties wearing blue jeans and a light brown jacket marched up over the slope behind the little boy with a big smile on her face.

“Janice,” Kurt called to her with a wave.

“Hey, boys,” the woman called back from the top of the small rise. “You got a day off?”

“Yeah, and a beautiful day it is.” The warmth of early April weather pleased Blaine, and he unzipped his jacket.

“They’ll manage to find a mud puddle.” Janice’s eyes followed the three children ran down to the playground the joined half a dozen other kids played under the watchful eye of their parents.

“Children will find any sort of mess.” Kurt strolled up the short slope. Below the three kids joined others in a noisy mash as he waved to someone.

The boys met Janice in a coffee shop two years ago, over clashing strollers at the narrow door. They laughed and then sat together in the window as the kids made faces at one another. She lived with her husband in a Soho loft not far from the boy’s West Village condominium. The two families became good friends, and they often babysat for each other, forgoing the payment. 

“Donald’s still working on the same project?” Kurt watched the twins interact with the other kids, where everything went nicely for the moment.

“Yes, it’s been stressful, but he’ll be home on Friday. I hope he won’t be on the road so much when it’s done.” Janice’s fingers flipped away from the metal bar of the play apparatus. Mark and Kate sat close to the center while Alex and a couple of other boys used their feet to get it to move slowly.

“Why don’t the two of you come over for dinner when he gets home? We’ll take Mark of your hands, and the two of you can have a little fun,” Kurt suggested. 

“Thank you. I’ll let you know.” Janice pushed the spinning device. “How’s the play?”

“Doing amazingly well,” Kurt replied. “We’re still selling out, and the reviews are good.”

“If you two want to get a coffee, I can watch our little treasures for a while,” Janice glanced at the kids.

“I’ll stay, Janice. Go with Blaine and have a break.” Kurt glanced at his husband. “The usual honey.”

Janice shrugged and turned to Blaine with a grin. 

“Sugar cookie, or chocolate?” Blaine inquired.

“Sugar.” Kurt smiled and then turned her attention back to the kids. 

Janice and Blaine walked away under the trees, chatting about their favourite subject―The Mets. Twenty-five minutes later, they returned with coffees and treats, and three sat on a bench to watch the kids gobbled down the fruity muffins. The adults played with the kids and chatted until Janice announced she had to leave. The twins pouted, but when they hit the grass, Alex tore off first with Kate right behind her. 

“This has been fun,” Blaine commented as he watched the children running across the field toward the river. 

“Hey, not that far,” Kurt yelled after the twins. “Wait for us.”

The twins understood the tone of the papa’s voice and slowed down. Alex turned to his father with a frown while Kate danced around him, blabbering at her brother.

“They’re full of energy today.” Being with his happy family made Blaine feel at ease. 

“They’ll sleep and perhaps?” Kurt returned a determined grin. 

“Yes, perhaps.” Kurt winked at his husband and then looked to the twins. Fifteen feet away, the twins ran around in circles playing tag while waiting for their parents caught up. 

With a bounce, Blaine trotted over to the twins, and he held his hand out to one of the twins. Kate’s tiny hand slid into his. Looking down at his daughter, he asked, “Are you having fun?”

“Yes, daddy,” Kate peered up at her father.

“And you, Alex,” Kurt inquired of his son placing a hand on his tiny head.

“Ice cream?” the boy asked.

“Can we?” Kate injected.

“On the way home,” Kurt nodded.

Together they strolled toward the railing where the park gave way to the Hudson River. At the river’s edge, the children hung over the lower edge of the balustrade staring at the water. Kurt pointed at a log bashing up against the cement wall. With a child on each side, Kurt weaved a marvellous tale Blaine knew he could never match. One husband scoffed when the other suggested he write children’s books.

Blaine stood with his back to the railing, listening with a smile. Moments like this made everything worth it. The city came to life around him with the greening of the grass and the trees beginning to bud. Hints of white and pink appeared on the branches as he suns warmed everything. Even though he loved New York, the park set by the vast ocean did not match a large forest and open fields. 

Fully aware the children’s attention span had not yet developed longevity, Kurt finished twisting a short web. Two adventures children defeated the pirates, forcing them into retreat while the victors celebrated. With a peck on each check, Kurt let the kids run a for a few feet where they started to play.

“I hope they slow down?” Blaine chuckled as if he knew the answer already. 

A hand rested each of the twin’s shoulders while Kurt leaned over the railing watching the water. His brow furrowed and then turned and leaned against the metal barrier. “The river level seems higher than usual.”

“It’s spring runoff,” Blaine explained. He watched the kids running about a few yards away on the grass. 

“It’s close to the high tidemark.” Kurt studied it with a certain amount of worry. 

Blaine gave his partner a speculative look, and the turned his attention to the cell phone buzzing in his pocket. One of Blaine’s eyebrows went up, and he tapped it. In an excited tone, he said, “Hey, long time no hear.”

Frowning, Kurt gave his partner a ‘who’ look. Kate squealed, and Kurt’s eyes went to the children, where Alex chased his sister around with a stick in his hand. 

Blaine responded to his lover’s gaze by holding a finger up as if to say, one second. He said to the person on the other end. “We’re in Battery Park with the kids.”

“Alex, don’t you hit your sister,” Kurt called to the twins. The two of them paused and then carried on with a little squeal. 

“Okay, we’ll see you at the museum in what, half an hour?” Blaine paused as if listening to the person on the other end. 

“Alex, what did I tell you?” Kurt called to his son. The little boy stopped even though his sister egged him on.

Blaine made a face as he stepped toward the twins, but said into the phone, “Right, see you then.”

“Who was that?” Kurt stepped onto the grass.

Blaine absently stroked his husband’s arm as he passed his husband. “Mercedes.”

“Wow!” Husband followed. “What’s it been, three years?”

Blaine’s brow furrowed, and he called out, “Alex, leave you sister alone.”

Skidding to in his tracks, Alex almost fell on his ass. Spinning around, Kate laughed, and the chase continued.

“Kids will be kids.” Kurt's face suddenly changed when Alex struck his sister, and she started to cry. 

“Alexander, come here!” Blaine said in his serious father tone. The boy dropped the stick and slowly walked toward his father.

Jogging over to Kate, Kurt took her in his arms to soothe her.

Crouching down, Blaine gave his son a sideways look. “Was that nice, Alexander?”

The use of the full name meant trouble, and the little boy responded in a tiny voice, “No, daddy.”

Putting a hand on his son’s arm, Blaine remembered hitting his brother with things harder than sticks. “Are you going to apologize to your sister?”

“Yes, daddy.” Alex lowered his head and walked over to his sister, being comforted by his papa. Impulsively he threw his arms about his sister and leaned into him. The kids hugged for a moment and then were off running again. 

Shaking his head, Kurt glanced his husband, who made a face. Standing, he strolled over to his husband and leaned closer. “What did she want?”

Watching the twins, Blaine replied, “She’s in town for a few days.”

“Great.” Kurt looked at his watch.

“Alex, Kate, come here,” Blaine called to the children. The two little ones looked back with concern on their tiny faces. Blaine returned a reassuring smile and said in an even, soft tone, “We’re going to meet with Auntie Mercedes.”

The twins returned puzzled looks and then began to walk toward their parents. Alex appeared put out, while Kate had a triumphant Rachel look on her face. Kurt and Blaine exchanged glances knowing they might have issues in the future. 

A little over half an hour later, they found Mercedes sitting on a bench talking to an officious looking man. Adorned in purples and black, she wore dark sunglasses and carried a large bag with her. The curvy woman had changed little over the years. Just like in school, the golden letters spelling her name hung around her neck. The sun glistened off the forehead exposed by a receding hairline as the man’s face turned the family approaching him. A sizable metal stud penetrating his ears shimmered in the brightness radiating from above as piercing green eyes took everything in all at once as he eyed Blaine and Kurt up and down. The look and attitude reminded Blaine of the security types found in high-end nightclubs. 

Mercedes’ smile spread her lips as wide as her mouth would permit as she wrapped her arms about Kurt. Letting him go, she shifted to Blaine, who hugged back with warm fondness. Her eyes went to the twins who politely gazed at her with eyes filled with bewilderment. 

“They don’t remember me?” Mercedes whispered to her high school friends. 

“They were what? Newborns?” Kurt joked as his eyes kept flipping back to the big man how rose right after Mercedes. 

Noting where his husband gazed, Blaine smiled because he also found his green eyes captivated. Kneeling between the twins, he pulled them both close. “Kate, Alex, this is Mercedes. Your fathers have known her for many years.”

Gazing at the heavyset woman, Alex suddenly looked to his sister and yelled, “Shasha!”

Kate stared and Mercedes and then glanced up at her papa.

“Yes.” Blaine nodded to his daughter.

Kurt grinned as he turned his attention to Mercedes, “They love the song you sang for Princess Shasha.”

Mercedes laughed. “I can’t believe a children’s tune is my most successful single.”

“Why don’t you go give Mercedes a big hug?” Blaine pushed the kids forward a step.

The twins looked at each other and then Alex flinched. Together they charged forward as Mercedes bent down to greet them. She beamed as their kids flew into her arms, clamouring for Shasha.

Giggling, Mercedes snuggled with the kids. “If you’re nice, Princess Shasha will sing for you.”

The kids yelled.

Briefly touching Kurt’s hand, Blaine looked happy. “How much time do you have, Mercedes?”

“I have no plans for tonight.” Mercedes’ looked up from the happy twins. “So, I’m all yours.”

“Good, you and your friend can come over for dinner.” Blaine nodded to Kurt. “We’ll phone Rachel and Jesse to see if they are free.”

“Has she dropped the bomb yet?” Mercedes made faces at the kids who laughed.

“Kenneth’s a couple of weeks ago.” Kurt effortlessly twisted his fingers into Blaine’s right hand. “He’s a beautifully fat and fussy baby boy who is keeping Rachel up at nights. You should have seen the mystical look on Barbara’s when she first saw her little brother. Unfortunately, the birth had not been easy on Rachel. She can’t have more children.”

“Oh my,” Mercedes stood, and the kids pulled away. “How is she holding up?”

“It stung, but she has four beautiful children,” Blaine answered with a frown. 

“Alex, Kate, no running,” Kurt told the twins. “We’re going home, and auntie Mercedes is staying for dinner.”

“Well, Shasha, sing?” Kate asked in an innocent tone.

“She’ll sing.” Mercedes touched the young girl's chin, and then he looked at the parents. “Can we walk? I’ve been on planes and in cars all day.”

“It’s a bit of a hike.” Blaine bent down he did up Alex’s coat. 

“Lets walk aa far as the World Trade Cente, and then we can cab it from there.” Mercedes looked to the gentleman with him with a half-smile and then started to walk. “Kurt, Blaine, this is Jacob.”

“Hi, Jacob.” Blaine nodded and then went back to fussing with his son. 

“Security?” Kurt inquired as he took Kate’s tiny hand.

“Yes,” Jacob replied in a strong, southern voice. 

Mercedes patted Jacob on the arm. “And a good friend.”

“Do you like steaks, Jacob?” Blaine asked as he looked the man up and down as he stood up.

“As big as I can get it.” The large man grinned as he strolled along beside Mercedes.

The look on Kurt’s face amused Blaine, who held his hand out. The little boy smiled and took it. 

“Tell us, Mercedes, what have you been up to?” Kurt took his husband’s right hand in his left. 

“Looking for my arm gays, but I see you are still hopelessly attached at the wrist.” Mercedes mused.

“Always and forever.” Kurt injected with a fond smile.

“I was just in Montreal, and I have a meeting with my publisher on Friday,” Mercedes answered as they strolled along the path. 

“Publisher?” Kurt looked down at the little person walking beside him.

“I wrote a book about my first couple of years in the business. Some people won’t be happy.” Mercedes winked.

“Not us?” Kurt’s tone rose as he gave his old friend a look. 

“You’ll have to read it to find out.” She smirked. “I barely touched school, so you may be safe. It is more about the crap in Las Angeles and agents. But if you want me too, I could add a couple of chapters.”

“No, thank you. Life is hectic enough.” Kurt squished Blaine’s hand, and his eye twitched.

“I can imagine. We’re planning another tour starting in Washington and then twelve more cities in the States, five in Canada and the thirty around the world.” Mercedes glanced the twins and then at Kurt with an apologetic look. Like all their friends, she knew of the trial, but not all the details. “What about you two. The show still going strong?”

“It’s nuts. With twins and long nights on the stage, sometimes I think my head will fall off. I couldn’t be happier.” Blaine rubbed his lover’s hand with his thumb. “Adamo Ruggiero and Adam Lambert took over for us three weeks ago, and we start rehearsals tomorrow. Jesse has arranged for Neil Patrick Harris and Randy Harrison are subbing in for us in September.”

“Wow, big time.” Mercedes patted Kurt on the shoulder. “I knew you two would make it.”

“If you are still about on Friday, bring Jacob as our guests.” Blaine offered.

Glancing at the tall man, Mercedes gave him a questioning look. He shook his head and then he gave her a devilish grin followed by a wink. Laughing, she said to the married couple, “I guess that means we have a date.”

“Fantastic.” Kurt beamed and then Kate pulled at his hand. Looking down, he noticed a loose lace. Bending down, he tied it, delaying the others who stopped and waited. 

Blaine waited for Kurt, and then they walked on into a growing number of people headed for the park. When they approached the turnabout circle marking the beginning of a busy road, Blaine crouched down. Pulling the twins close, he said in a soft but firm tone, “We are going to be walking up a busy street. What do we do on a busy street?”

“We hold daddy’s hands,” Kate said.

“Yes, and?” Blaine questioned with a smile.

Alex bobbed his head back and forth. “We do not let go.”

Drawing both kids into a hug, Blaine beamed.

“He’s good,” Mercedes commented to Kurt.

“He’s the best.” Kurt reached out to Kate.

“I think you’re a little biased, Kurt.” Mercedes began to walk.

“I certainly hope so.” Retaking his daughter’s hand, he turned toward the point where Battery Park City Esplanade led to a road. 

The six of them passed out from under the blossoming trees out onto the sidewalk of South End Avenue. When they passed the veterinary hospital, people filled the sidewalk heading in both directions. Walking at a pace set by the twins, they chitchatted about life and music. When they reached Rector Park, the busy flow of pedestrians forced them to walk in pairs, one behind the other. Kurt and Kate strolled along in front of Mercedes and Jacob with Blaine and Alex bringing up the rear. 

Hazel eyes circled down toward his daughter, who innocently pulled at his hand. Calling to the others, Blaine said, “She’s getting tired, perhaps we should take the bus.” 

Upfront, Kurt stopped and turned back with a nod. Grinning at Mercedes, he said, “Yeah, I think we’ve better. We can catch the M20 across the street.”

“Sorry, Mercedes,” Blaine apologized to their friend.

Mercedes looked up at the tall buildings and grumbled, “I hate taking the bus.”

“In New York, taking the bus is a good thing.” Kurt crouched down beside Kate adjusting her coat. 

Holding Alex close to him, Blaine glanced down the street for the bus noting all the traffic. “London’s pretty bad.”

“You should try Tokyo. Now, that’s a zoo.” Mercedes stepped ahead of the boys and looked down the street.

“Come along. The light’s changed.” Kurt commanded as he scooped Katherine up in his arms and led the group across the other side of the street. As they neared the bus stop in the middle of the block, a massive ball of fire lifted cars from the road, throwing debris and glass in all directions.


	34. Worries

“—burning three hours later,” the thirty-three-year-old blond woman wearing a bright flowery blouse, stated from behind a raised glass table in a broadcast studio. The words in red at the bottom of the screen informed the population of New York City and the surrounding area that a state of emergency existed. The anchor looked emotionally composed as the split-screen relived shots of emergency crews moving about the intersection South End Avenue and Liberty Street. The right side of the screen showed a scene from the waters showing dark smoke curling up into the air blocking the view of the New World Trade Center.

A weary man cringed with the sharp wave of discomfort edging through his back. Eyes turned away even as he wished the ears could tune it out because the sounds set him on edge. Every television within sight repeated the same thing regardless of the channel. The image they showed revealed the events of the first blast captured on someone’s cell phone. Sheets of flame rolled up into the air, carrying metal, cement, and billowing smoke. The images conjured images of the force, throwing a large delivery truck into the air. An overwrought man thanked his luck because the position it landed in channelled the worst of the blast up and over the place where the massive concussion tossed him.

“The death toll has climbed to one hundred and thirty-one. In Boston, one hundred and three are confirmed dead and fifty-seven in Philadelphia.” The handsome forties, something man, sitting beside the female anchor, sat there trying to sculpture the emotion into something neutral.

The head rolled to the right causing an abrupt burst of pain to shoot into his neck. Thankfully the pain killers dulled the flesh throbbing under the bandages constraining the injured man’s left shoulder and his arm. Due to the overwhelming flood patients, they cleaned the wound and then stitched him up. Unfortunately, they did nothing to ease the ache consuming his chest.

The expression on the co-anchor’s face changed, and then a man in his fifties appeared on one of the screens. The forty-something male anchor introduced the dignified gentleman, “We are joined by Robert Paulic, a former bomb removal expert for the City of New York. Robert, give us your opinion of what has happened thus far.”

The expert sat in a chair with his back to a window looking out onto a forest. A shelf, thick with books on military history, filled the left-hand side of the screen. Leaning back in his large chair, he said, “From the damage of the initial explosion, I suspect the use of fertilizers. However, the secondary explosions worry me. From the way the fire spread, flammable liquids had been employed. The first blast was designed to do extensive damage and to draw the bait to the point of the emergency. My guess is―”

A little over three hours ago, a father wrapped his body about his screaming son and hauled him to the ground. The force of the blast tumbled them a few feet back toward the shattered bus stop where they slid to stop. The stunned man clung to the wailing child, and just as he started to pull himself up, something substantial smashed into his shoulder. Howling in agony, he flopped forward as warm liquid oozing into his shirt. Seconds later, something sharp struck his cheek and bounced away.

A stunned father lay on his side, cradling the wailing toddler in his arms, facing a twisted hunk of metal with the marking of the United States Postal Service. The heavy box rested at a lopsided angle on top of Jacob and Mercedes. Blood ran down the singer’s face into a pool on the grim covered sidewalk. He needed to help her. He needed to keep his son safe. He needed to. He needed to. He needed to.

A kick in the stomach and the wailing cry of a child forced adrenaline into his veins. The body rolled back, and the agony inflicted on his body struck home, and the man screamed. His eyes squeezed shut, and his head rolled painfully down to the right. When they opened, the man’s breath froze in his throat—a few feet away, a familiar form pressed against a concrete wall holding a blood-smeared child in his arms. The injured man yelled a name, but neither the man nor the child did not look his way. His chest thumped in his throat and time stop. For a second, he saw two men in long coats from another era lumbering into the surf. The shorter man tossed, the taller one over the side of a bobbing rowboat just as a gunshot echoed from a distance. The wooden side of the boat exploded, throwing splitters in all directions. A twirling shard sliced through an exposed cheek.

A piece of high-flying debris clattering on the concrete and time shuttered forward once more. What the injured man saw and what he experienced meshed with awful reality―a piece of glass protruded from his husband’s lower back. Sentiment rose in his throat, and even though the boy in his arms demanded attention, his eyes remained fixed on the motionless man he loved.

Suddenly someone in a white knee-length coat appeared within an injured man’s field of vision. Another person wearing a similar coat with a large bag in her arms knelt next to the first person. The middle-aged man dug into the bag and hauled out things the injured man could not see. The woman leaned down and tried the tug he weepy child from under the man on top of him. The little boy noisily resisted, and she paused. Her brow furrowed and then she pulled out a sealed bottle from the bag and ripped the top off. The wrapping covering the gauze package flew to one side and then she soaked it in the liquid from the bottle. The child wriggled, but she managed to wipe most of the blood off the child’s forehead before applying a large bandage.

At some point, while the woman dealt with the child, the suffering man barked out a single and very loud derogatory word. From behind something cut into the fabric of his jacket and shirt, exposing a large section his back. A wave of nausea rose in the injured man’s stomach when the stranger in the white coat poured the remaining contents of the bottle onto the open tear in the skin. The course of the liquid flowing down his back felt oddly soothing, and then a father screeched. Something pointed pressed into raw flesh and tugged an embedded object out. More liquid soaked his back, followed by two sets of hands pushing something soft into the wound. The sound of ripping tape announced the discomfort to come when a sticky strip pulled at exposed skin.

The battered man slumped forward onto his terrified child. Overhead, the man and the woman exchanged words, and then she crawled over to Mercedes as additional help arrived carrying large red and white containers. The middle-aged man directed one of them to Mercedes and two to the man lying over a crying child a few feet away while rest trotted down the street. The man cradling his son caught sight of the symbol from the veterinary hospital down by the park.

An anguished man watched the two animal medics knelt by his lover, and he called out a name. The veterinarian took note and shouting to his colleague. The middle-aged pointed between himself and the wounded people she aided and then crossed his fingers. At the same time, the co-worker examining the unmoving man draped over a crying girl waved to get his superior’s attention. Detail-oriented eyes scanned the man in front of him, and then the veterinarian hauled himself to his feet. As he ran the short distance, a policeman appeared out of the cloud of dust and smoke. Yelling into his radio, he demanded immediate assistance.

Sirens echoed in the distance while dozens of people hobbled past. Where Liberty Street met South End Avenue, a wall of flame bubbled up the torn edifices of two buildings. Three fire trucks stopped side by side near the epicentre of the blast where water started to douse the fire. Suddenly two explosions rumbled in the distance, and once again, a child found himself smothered by his groaning father. Large rolling clouds of smoke, dust and debris tore down Albany and Liberty Streets to spread out over the first blast zone. The child’s father lost consciousness, and when he came too, bright lights forced him to close his eyes. He lay on something firm and soft facing a wall surrounded by shouts of despair and wild calls. He yelled at someone racing passed in a bloody gown before everything faded into blackness again.

The next time he came to, he found himself sharing a crowded room with three dozen non-critically wounded people. A father reached out in his delirium to find his bandages and pain restrained him. The discomfort shocked him into reality, and he blinked. Frantic eyes searched, and then he sighed when he saw two little people lying together on a gurney next to him. A bandaged boy lay curled up on the end of the bed against one of the raised side barriers. His sister lay on the top half of the bed with a tightly bandaged head and tubes sticking out of her arm.

His right hand came up, and a concerned father noticed the small bandages covering his numerous cuts and a yellow cardboard tag tied about his wrist. Marked with the stamp of the veterinary hospital, the words—family #1, 1 of 4—stared him in the face. His eyes went to his right and saw similar tags tied to the children’s wrists. An already pounding heart crashed against his ribs because he did not see number three.

The mayhem in the emergency department spread into the halls where a family nestled together on two gurneys pushed together in a narrow alcove. Time ticked on before a clerk, wearing a smock, came by asking for their names and other information. Begging for news, an irrational father unintentionally dropped the name of an important personage, and sometime later, two FBI agents showed up. Without revealing much, they hustled the family into the small maternity suite on the other side of the building from a bustling emergency ward.

Still wearing bloody trousers, no shirt and a hospital gown, an exhausted father glared at the door. A groan rumbled in his throat as he pulled himself away from his thoughts. Looking up at the endless loop on the television, the ticker tape at the bottom bumped up the New York death toll by thirty-two. With a glance at his sleeping children, he marched over to the door and pulled at it. Both agents turned with their hands up, preventing him from leaving. His heart fell into an enduring private hell.

A fretting husband watched the broadcast while guarding his tiny flock. Lost in his brooding, he almost missed a hushed mumble. The speed at which he turned stung, but the sight of his daughter gazing at him eased his overstimulated heart. Wiping a tear from his cheek, the troubled man plunked himself down in the chair beside the bed occupied and tentatively touched his daughter lightly on her cheek

“Daddy, I hurt.” A little girl’s voice trailed away as her face contorted in pain.

Repeatedly hitting the call button, Blaine emotionally responded, “Oh, my dearest.”

“Papa grabbed me so hard,” Kate stated in a low, soar voice.

“Daddy?” Alexander’s sorrowful eyes gazed across his sister’s thighs.

“All is good, my darlings.” Blaine choked on the words with a combination of fear and relief. “We’re safe and in the hospital.”

“Speak up, daddy,” Kate complained.

Until now, Blaine had not considered the fact everything he heard seemed muffled as important. Sharply inhaling, he considered his response and then softly said, “Daddy has trouble hearing too. It will get better.”

“There was a big boom.” Alex looked at her father with wide eyes.

“Something awful happened, and we were hurt.” Blaine rested his head on his unbound hand as his elbow came to rest on the bed.

“Daddy?” Alex pulled at the bandage on his arm.

“Leave that alone,” Blaine cautioned his son, and then guilt exploded beneath his ribs.

Young, uncertain eyes stared up at his father, and Blaine swallowed. Sitting up straight, he reached out and softly touched his son’s cheek. “Daddy did not mean to use that tone. The bandages prevent bad things from getting into your ouchie.”

The little boy half-smiled. “Yes, daddy.”

The fond smile stretching Blaine’s lips hid the heaviness he felt. Forcing himself to be cheerful wore on him, but he must.

“Daddy, I hurt,” Kate gazed up at her father with a sick child’s look.

A thumb pressed into the call button, and Blaine said to his daughter, “Honey, I know you hurt.”

“I hurt, Daddy.” Kate began to squirm.

Worried about the tube sticking into her arm, Blaine patiently said, “Honey, you have to lie still. How about you spell your best friend’s name for me?”

A little hand moved, and then the child sadly winced.

“Honey, please spell your best friend’s name for.” Blaine tried not to plead.

The little girl whined and then her brother spelled the name for his father. Blaine asked Kate to spell another word, and again, her brother did. After several tries, a competitive Kate joined in. They played the game for a while and then Katherine started to cry. When Alex joined out, Blaine resorted to telling stories complete with funny voices. Their father started to feel overawed when the door opened, and the abrupt appearance of a young nurse brought sniffling silence. Blood smeared the haggard appearing woman’s pale-yellow uniform. The tray she carried in her hands had several instruments on it plus a large metal container and two bottles of water laying on their sides.

Blaine carefully rolled his head, releasing the tension building up in his neck. A genuinely pleased smile pulled at his lips and then the let out a long sigh.

Ignoring the FBI agent behind her trailing behind her, the nurse asked the adult patient, “What is your name.”

Blaine blinked and then answered, “Blaine Anderson-Hummel.”

The nurse nodded, slid the tray onto the raised table, “Blaine, I’m Anne. I’m going to look at your bandages and your children.”

“Hi, Anne,” Blaine replied in a low voice. An important question jumped to mind, but his children needed him. “My daughter, Katherine, has been complaining about the pain, and we’re all having trouble hearing.”

From a large cardboard box, she took out a pair of surgical gloves and tugged them on her hands. Her eyes fell on paperwork on the tray and then she picked up a mechanical thermometer and turned to the little girl, “Hi Katherine. I am going to hold this against your head and take your temperature.”

The little girl pulled back, but a kind grin made Kate smile.

“That’s a good girl, Katherine,” The nurse looked at the digital readout, and then checked the flow of the liquid slowly dripping into Kate’s arm. The girl reached for it, and the nurse gently moved the tiny hand away. “Please, try not to pull at this.”

“Kate, it's not a toy,” Blaine cautioned his daughter. “It may be uncomfortable, but it’s good for you.”

An unsteady lower lip rolled up over the one above it, and Katherine nodded.

The nurse turned back to the little girl and looked into her eyes. Kate flinched, and then the nurse said, “It’s okay, sweetie.”

“The nurse won’t hurt you,” Blaine said to his daughter in a soft, fatherly tone.

“Where do you hurt, sweetie?” the nurse asked.

The little girl nodded and said in a shaky voice, “My head.”

“It’s okay, Katherine, you’ll be better soon.” The nurse studied her bandaged head from different angles and then turned back to the tray. She read something on the chart and then wrote something down, and then extracted a clear packet from a long, thin plastic container. Hooking it up to the flow of liquid in the tube, she adjusted the drip and looked to the father. In a calm tone, she said to her father, “This for the pain and it will help her sleep. The other drip is an antibiotic.”

Blaine gravely nodded.

“What’s your name?” the nurse turned her attention to the young boy.

The boy proudly replied, “Alexander.”

The nurse smiled and then said, “And how are you doing, Alexander?”

Alex bravely replied, “Me good.”

The nurse gazed at the boy’s eyes and held the same device to his forehead. Alex sat there, watching and then smiled when she pulled the instrument away. Last, she studied the bandages before giving the boy a bright smile. “You’re a brave boy. Can you hear me?”

“A little,” Alex replied.

The nurse raised her voice slightly, “Can you hear me better.”

The boy nodded and then jumped when the nurse snapped her fingers beside his ear. Her hand came to rest on Alex’s cheek, and she smiled. “Sorry, Alexander. I wanted to know if you can hear that.”

A nervous father let out a long breath to bring him down from the edge.

Jotting something down on the chart, Anne looked to Blaine, “How are you feeling? Are you in pain? How is your hearing?”

“It hurts when I move, and it sounds like someone stuffed cotton baton in my ears,” Blaine quietly replied. “How are my children?”

“Your son is going to be fine. He suffered only minor cuts and bruises.” The nurse glanced at the watching children as she changed her gloves. Leaning over Blaine, she moved his hospital gown back and looked at the large bandage on his back. Lifting the tape so she can get a look, she added, “Katherine suffered a deep cut on her head and will have to be reassessed once things calm down. When the equipment is free, we’ll do a CT scan. I made a note to have your hearing checked.”

A wave of release passed through Blaine making him feel weak. His head went down, and then he looked up with pleading eyes. “Can you tell me something about my husband, Kurt Anderson-Hummel and Mercedes Jones?”

“I’m going to give you some antibiotics and T3’s for the pain. You’ll need to have that looked at again, and the bandaged changed. I’m sorry it’s taking so long, but . . . I think you can understand. The nurse taped the bandage down again and turned to the tray. Stripping the gloves off, she picked up a needle and a small bottle. Drawing most of the liquid into a syringe, she injected it into Blaine’s good arm.

“Please?” Tears glistened in Blaine’s eyes as he took a small packet of pills and a bottle of water from the nurse.

“I’m sorry, but it’s a zoo out there.” The nurse apologetically sighed as he handed Blaine another bottle for the children. “If I can find someone who knows, I’ll send them your way.”

“Thank you. Thank you so very much?” A spike drove into their father’s heart as wide, watery eyes went up to the nurse. “Please, if you could?”

The woman nodded and picked up the tray before departing. The FBI agent closed the door behind him, leaving Blaine feeling numb. Sucking on his lips, Blaine looked up to the ceiling feeling more than a little lost. Good, god, where could Kurt be? The sense of loss he felt dug down through his body down to the bottom of his feet. Swallowing the desire to cry, Blaine steeled himself against the inevitable.

Within minutes Kate slept, and Alex lay there staring at nothing for a short while. Eventually, their father rested his head on the mattress as Alex curled up beside him. Blaine cupped his hand over his son’s drawing out the comfort he needed from the child’s warm skin. Time slowed, and the commotion outside became lost in drowsiness.

Something loud passed over the building rattling the walls shocking the weary man awake. His head rolled away from his slumbering children and up to the television displaying a scene of several naval vessels lumbering into the city’s outer harbour. The announcers spoke about the military response and commented on the president’s earlier hardline statement. The screen flickered to an image of the White House were Hillary addressed the nation and the world with a stoned faced Sue Sylvester standing beside her. The sight of Sue made Blaine chuckle for the first time in hours.

Blaine’s chest tightened when he noticed the red banner announcing the New York death toll numbered six hundred and thirty-one. Fingers racked across his forehead and under his eyes, wicking away the moisture he found there. His breath blasted from his mouth when the auto-redialing phone vibrated on the nearby table. Paralysis struck for a brief second, and then he swiped up with a sense of joy and dread.

“Blaine?” A frantic woman’s voice sounded muffled.

His throat constricted, and a single word came out as a squeak, “Mom?”

“Oh my god, you’re safe!” The voice over the phone sounded relieved.

“Mom?” Tears dripped from Blaine’s cheek onto the gown he wore.

“The kids? Kurt?” Another female voice echoed out of the cell phone.

“Carole, I―” Blaine’s voice became sobs.

“Blaine?’ Pam beseeched.

The man fought to regain control of himself and then his son pulled on the gown he wore. Tapping on the speaker feature, Blaine put the phone down and enfolded the child in his unharmed arm. With two irate women calling to him, Blaine tearfully managed to one word, “Mom.”

“Blaine?” Pam sounded relieved.

Blaine answered, “Mom. It’s been a―”

“Where’s the twins?” Carole cut her son-in-law off.

“They’re with me.” Blaine glanced at the children and began to cry again.

“Blaine, honey, keep it together,” his mother advised with a trembling voice.

“Where’s Kurt?” Carole’s voice vibrated with emotion.

Sniffing, Blaine moaned, “Mom?”

“Blaine?” The words squeaked out of Pam’s throat.

“A piece of glass was sticking out of―” Tear-stained hazel eyes held Alex’s severe gaze as two the women on the phone gasped.

“Nana,” Alex’s young voice rose in volume.

“Alex, my boy.” Carole sounded as if she tried to control herself. “Are you alright?”

“I have an ouchie,” Alex replied in a firm tone.

“Your father will take care of you,” Carole’s voice quivered.

“Katherine?” Pam asked with a hint of desperation. “I don’t hear Kate!”

“They patched her up, but want . . . to look at her . . . when things calm down.” Blaine choked on his words because of the dark sentiment pulling him in conflicting directions.

“Kate’s sleeping.” Alex’s voice shook.

“Let her sleep, my darling,” Carole’s tone revealed she had trouble keeping her emotions in check. “It will do her good.”

“Are you hurt, dear?” Pam asked in a loud voice.

“We were caught in the . . . mom.” Blaine fought off a sob. “Kurt saved Katherine’s life.”

Sobs resonated on the other end of the phone, where one woman spoke in hushed tones to the other.

“Daddy?” Alex weakly asked, and he started to cry.

“Alex, your dad needs you to be strong.” Regardless of her heavy emotion, Pam tried to sound calm. “Can you be strong?”

Alex sniffled, and his voice sounded small and shaky. “Yes, nana.”

The child hugged his father’s arm, and Blaine lowered his head against Alex’s shoulder. The words would not form.

“Son?” Pam asked after a couple of seconds of silence.

“Mercedes was with us.” A huge groan escaped Blaine, and he breathed in heavily. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Blaine!” Carole’s tone rose in volume and need.

“Have you asked?” Pam inquired.

“I pleaded with a nurse, and she told me what she could.’ He suddenly looked at the door, Blaine angrily added, “They won’t even let me leave?”

“Who won’t?” Pam asked, her voice hard.

“The FBI." Blaine sounded more than a bit upset. “It’s as if we’re under arrest.”

The two women muttered something to each other and then Carole said. “Burt phoned after the president declared a national emergency. They’ve placed all elected officials and their families in protective protection.”

The thought boggled Blaine’s mind. “Why?”

“Blaine, don’t argue.” Pam sounded crossed.

“Yes, mom.” Blaine let out a sigh as his eyes went back to his kids. “I wish I could find out something about Kurt.”

“Blaine, they’re ov—” The signal rudely died.

“Mom? Carole?” Blaine’s voice rose as he snatched up the phone. “Fuck!”

Blaine stared at the screen and gently put it down with a sinking feeling deep in his heart. With agonizing effort, he lifted his son and set him on his lap. The trembling child instantly buried his head into his father’s chest and whimpered. Softly kissing Alex on the top of his head, Blaine quietly sang a song on hope the man he loved would somehow hear him.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qmqH48XIHlM)

_I walked across an empty land_   
_I knew the pathway like the back of my hand_   
_I felt the earth beneath my feet_   
_Sat by the river and it made me complete_

_Oh simple thing, where have you gone?_   
_I’m getting old and I need something to rely on_   
_So tell me when you’re gonna let me in_   
_I’m getting tired and I need somewhere to begin_

_I came across a fallen tree_   
_I felt the branches of it looking at me_   
_Is this the place we used to love?_   
_Is this the place that I’ve been dreaming of?_

_Oh simple thing, where have you gone?_   
_I’m getting old and I need something to rely on_   
_So tell me when you’re gonna let me in_   
_I’m getting tired and I need somewhere to begin_

_And if you have a minute, why don’t we go_   
_Talk about it somewhere only we know?_   
_This could be the end of everything_   
_So why don’t we go somewhere only we know?_   
_Somewhere only we know_

_And if you have a minute, why don’t we go_   
_Talk about it somewhere only we know?_   
_This could be the end of everything_   
_So why don’t we go? So why don’t we go?_

_And if you have a minute, why don’t we go_   
_Talk about it somewhere only we know?_   
_This could be the end of everything_   
_So why don’t we go somewhere only we know?_   
_Somewhere only we know_   
_Somewhere only we know_


	35. Don’t Need No Ms. Berry

“Get the fuck out there!” Rachel growled.

“Rachel put a sock in it. You’re not helping anyone.” Jesse sternly told his wife. He sounded like he spoke to his wife from another room.

“I don’t care!” Rachel yelled back at her husband.

Within seconds of picking up the phone, Blaine wished he had a fist full of painkillers. Her first words had not been hello or how are you, but rather an angry outpouring about paying attention to his phone. Following the interruption of his call with his mother, Blaine wanted to rip the door off its hinges. Luckily, his concern for his children dialled back his rage.

A child cried over the phone, followed by Jesse, adding, “Rachel, will you please keep it down.”

“They won’t let me out of the room?” Blaine whined. Leaning over the side table with his cheek pressed into his uninjured hand, he drew in a deep breath. The boy nestled against his father’s torso and the bedside cabinet had an apprehensive look on her face.

“Who won’t?” Rachel's volume rose in volume and pitch.

“The FBI.” Blaine glanced at the door. The last time he tried to leave, the agents responded in their usual polite manner. He told them he wanted some water for the children, and they got it for him.

“What the hell?” Rachel questioned with a raised voice.

Shaking his head, Blaine released a long breath. “Carole told me it has to do with Burt.”

“Shi―” Jesse caught himself and fell silent.

Rachel’s emotional voice overrode her husband. “Just tell them to get a goddamned doctor!”

“Fu . . .” Blaine bit his tongue, and his head hit the mattress.

“Damn it. Blaine, do something!” Rachel screeched.

“Rac—” Blaine bit his tongue and then moaned, “I just want to hear something about Kurt.”

Alex placed a hand on his father’s and looked up at him with soft, red-rimmed eyes. The adoring look reminded Blaine so much of his husband that he had to smile. Ignoring the interruption from outside sources, Blaine sat up straight and kissed his son above the ear. In response, the little boy snuggled up against his father.

“Jesus, Blaine!” Rachel’s voice had a hardness to it, and a chair scraped against the floor. “I’m on my way.”

“Dear, Lower Manhattan had been shut down.” Jesse sounded put out. “They wouldn’t allow you to get close,”

Rachel shouted back at her husband. “Jesus Christ, I’ll walk!”

A tiny finger dug into his cheek, and Blaine looked down, sat his son. Alex’s large eyes stared up at his father, telling a story―mommy being mommy. With a sigh, Blaine injected. “Rachel, language.”

“Lan—" Rachel yelled, and in the background, a child loudly howled.

Jesse firmly said to his wife. “Rachel, you’re not going anywhere.”

“For fuck’s sake. They’re my children!” Rachel snarled. “Blaine and Kurt are family.”

The sound of the wailing newborn grew louder and then Jesse’s growled at his wife, “Rachel!”

“Oh, just give me that damned baby.” Rachel did not sound pleased, but she did seem calmer.

“There is nothing we can do, Rach?” Jesse paused, and then he redirected the conversation. “What was that about Mercedes?”

Blaine felt the boy pull in a shaking breath, and he pressed Alex’s little head into his chest. Protecting their children had always been every parent’s number one responsibility, and an explosion stripped that away. Sitting in the hospital made him think of the dangers of life. Had it been fair to bring children into the world, knowing some madman might kill them and the climate changed. What would they inherit?

A surge of pain in the shoulder raced down his torso, and Blaine shifted the child on his lap. The ache in his chest increased after the sweeping wave deposited a lump here. Life without Kurt? What would it be like? Could he go on without the man he loved? The presence of children told him, yes, but the heart melted into the abject emptiness he endured. His head fell against his son’s, and he started to sob.

“Blaine?” Rachel pleaded in a more controlled tone.

“We met Mercedes in Battery Park. She was coming home for dinner. We were going to ask you to come over. She was getting ready for a new concert tour and was meeting her publisher,” Blaine’s said all in one breath as his mind spewed words with no real thought. “The twins were standoffish at first since they do not know her. Alex remembered Shasha, and then they got excited. They had been playing—"

“Blaine!” Rachel snapped.

The curly-headed man shook his head and then drew in a long breath. Looking at the twins, and his head drooped. The phases spilled from his mouth as if the dam broke, “We walked down South End . . . I don’t know. There was a huge boom and then the heat. I grabbed Alex and dropped to the sidewalk. He screamed and . . . There was so much blood.”

Rachel gasped and, in the background, Jesse mumbled something to her.

“I held Alex as if there were no one else in the world.” Blaine began to cry anew.

Alex’s voice cut into his father’s. “Daddy?”

A father hugged his child, pulling him as close a possible. For hours not, he kept it together for the sake of his children, but now the dam burst. Tuffs of curly hair pressed down on a little head, and the tears would not halt. Kurt? Where could he be? Why had not the nurse come back to tell him? The heart somehow said—hoped—he lived, but the lack of knowing whittled away at whatever fortitude a shattered man could muster. Doubt etched lines on his heart each time he closed his eyes to see reflections of the flames lapping of glass.

Rachel’s voice pressed into the phone, “Blaine?”

Kurt? The heart withered in the chest as a Blaine found himself curling his body around his son not out of fear but to feel the love. A child loved without condition even as they demanded and stretched the parent’s nerves. A father and husband needed this because his anchor no longer kept this ship in place.

“Blaine?” Rachel’s sounded compassionately quiet.

A scared man barely heard her over the whimpering of his son. It did not take much to know his son felt the loss as well. In the beginning, the twins cried over their physical torments, but now, Blaine felt Alex’s mood shift toward a horrible possibility. Regardless of everything a father did to soothe his son, time worked against them.

“Blaine!” Rachel’s voice exploded on the other end of the phone.

The child in Blaine’s arms flinched, and his father winced at the pain shooting through his upper body. Eyes flickered as he stared down at the phone lying on the side table. Weakly swallowing and his swirling emotions took him down a path he would rather not follow. “They came from down the street.”

“Who did?” Rachel demanded.

“Rach?” Jesse cautioned over the crying of a newborn.

“Blood—” The words failed in Blaine’s through, and he felt his stomach rise in his throat. Slowly rocking his son back and forth, he aimlessly rambled on. “It pooled all around . . . Then I saw Kurt. He lay in a heap against smothering Kate in his arms . . . glass . . . Oh, Kurt, where are you?”

“Good . . . god.” A fussy child forced Rachel to stretch her words out.

“I heard sirens from everywhere. People ran all over the place. Someone came up to me and pushed stuff into my shoulder.” Blaine ambled on.

“You’re hurt?” Jesse injected. Rachel said something in the background.

A distraught father’s brain no longer functioned. “Then there were two more . . . loud blasts. I remember wrapping myself around Alex, and that is . . . Rachel—”

Jesse and Rachel sharply inhaled.

Alex reacted to the should over the phone and tearfully moaned, “Momma?”

“Oh, my dear boy,” Rachel’s voice broke on a couple of words. “Mommy, would be there if someone would—?”

“Kate’s moving.” Alex choked on the words. “She hurts.”

Hazel eyes flashed to the bed here. Kate rolled ever so slightly under the loosely fitted blanket. He stared away from his daughter toward the window as if something had caught his attention.

“Blaine!” Rachel called back. Her voice broke as tears flowed.

Jesse cautioned. “Rachel, calm down.”

Mrs. St James said something angrily to her husband before yelling into the phone, “For fuck's sake, Blaine!”

Shocked, Blaine blinked, and then he stood while holding his son in his uninjured arm. Awkwardly carrying his son, he limped over to the window he looked up. In a low tone, he uttered, “Helicopters.”

“Blaine, really?” Rachel shrieked.

“For fucking sake, Rachel! I don’t need no, Ms. Berry.” Blaine flapped his uninjured arm around, yelled, threatening to break the emotional dam. The loud reactions of his son on his lap came as a slap in the face. A deep breath escaped his lip as he held his crying boy in his arms.

“You can’t—” The woman on the other end growled.

“Bloody hell, Rachel! Shut the . . . up!” Blaine bit his lip and drew in a deep breath. “You’re not the one who watched . . . Sh―”

Whatever Jesse said to his wife came across as muffled, but firm tones leaving Blaine shaking his head. It took an effort to stand while holding his son, he managed. A weary father walked over to the bed again and hesitatingly put Alex down. His head rolled toward his shoulder and then he ran two fingers through his son’s wavy hair.

“—later,” Rachel spoke to her husband in an ominous tone. “If it was Barbara, you would—”

“It’s not Barbara or Kenneth,” Jesse sounded stressed.

“It’s Alex and—” Rachel’s voice rose and then the phone went dead for a short moment. “Where’ Katherine?”

Inwardly groaning, Blaine’s voice overpowered Rachel’s, and as he stated, “Rachel, Katherine’s asleep. She has a head and arm injury. They want to look at―”

“Get a fuck’n doctor!” Ms. Berry screamed into the phone.

“Rachel, yelling at me accomplishes nothing.” Blaine stifled his anger and turned back to the window where loud thumping passed overhead.

“Blaine?” Rachel’s tone softened into tears.

“Rachel, I can’t say things I don’t know.” Blaine pressed his nose to the window feeling the vibration against his cheek.

“Daddy?” Alex shuddered as something else roared overhead. Laying his head against his sister, the boy looked frightened.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Blaine placed a hand on his son's shoulder and said, “Alex, there’s no more booms.”

“Blaine?’ Rachel’s pitch rose.

“Rachel, you’re not listening,” Blaine responded to the woman on the phone. “I told you there are helicopters, Big grey ones, circling the building.”

“Blaine, just—” Rachel suddenly shut up.

In a stern tone, Jesse cut his wife off by saying, “Rachel, just calm down. By the sound of it, help is on the way.”

“That doesn’t—” Rachel argued back.

“Rachel, you’re not there, and Blaine is.” Jesse cut his wife off.

Silence reigned for a few seconds, and when Rachel spoke, she sounded almost calm, “Blaine, I’m sorry.”

Gathering his thoughts, Blaine felt less scattered. Pausing for a moment, he eventually answered. “Rachel, believe me, I wish I could—”

The door suddenly opened, and a fully armed marine walked in. Blaine held his son tighter as he loudly inhaled.

“What’s happening?” Rachel sounded frantic again.

“Gapa!” Alex suddenly screamed, and the boy crawled to his knees.

Congressman Burt Hummel, wearing a flak jacket over his dark blue suit and carried a steal military helmet in his arms, stepped through the door. Behind him walked a fully armed marine and a man in a dark blue suit. Outside two men with earpieces gathered about the FBI agents, while a second marine and a woman in fatigues waited in the hall. Burt’s eyes brightened when he saw his grandchildren and son-in-law and, then, they suddenly turned grave.

Without even thinking, a tearful Blaine threw himself into this father-in-law’s arms. Burying his face into Burt’s chest, he ignored the pain spreading through him. Effortlessly the everything he felt over the past few hours, drained away within his trembling body. Careful of the sling holding Blaine’s arm in place, Burt enveloped the younger man in a firm and loving hug.

“Blaine?” Rachel’s voice called over the phone.

“Hi Rachel,” Burt spoke up, not knowing where the phone might be.

“Burt!” Rachel exclaimed. “Burt, you—"

“Rachel, let’s allow them time?” Jesse said over the phone.

Rachel pleaded. “Jesse?”

“Hello, Jesse,” Burt’s appearance shifted again as if understand came to him.

“Rachel, I’ll call back.” Blaine sputtered as he released his father-in-law. Three steps later, he tapped on the red button cutting Rachel off.

Burt stood there, gazing at his son-in-law, who, in turn, stared at his son sitting on the bed beside his slumbering sister. Burt rubbed his hand up and down Blaine’s back and glanced over his shoulder with a nod. A woman squeezed between the men in the suits and uniforms and entered the room. She carried a big, rigid case with a medical symbol on it. The woman appeared to be in her late forties wearing a light brown uniform with colourful ribbons on his chest. A long scar ran down one cheek from the ear to the chin, and greying hair lay close to her scalp.

His head leaning against Blaine’s fussy mop, the older man watched. Instinctively, he squeezed the younger man tighter, and then the congressman said, “Blaine, Major Witherspoon is going to examine you and the kids.”

Relief eased up Blaine’s body from the bottom of his feet even though he noted Alex’s skittish reaction. In a soft, even tone, he said to his son, “Alex, she’s one of the heroes, and she would like to look at your ouchies.”

“Like Noddy?” A bright-eyed child tilted his head to one side.

The kneeling major looked puzzled and then she said with a bright smile, “Like Wonder Woman.”

The boy gave her a perplexed look.

“She’s helped, Princess Shasha?” The words held in Blaine’s throat.

The boy pointed toward the door. “Princess Shasha is there?”

The doctor gave the child an odd look as he started to dig into her medical satchel.

Wiping his eyes, Blaine choked on his breath. “Mercedes was with us. I have no idea what’s going on.”

Pivoting on a heel proved difficult with his son-in-law hanging onto him, but Burt somehow managed. Glancing at the nearest man in a suit, the congressman softly asked, “Craig, can you go and find out what you can about my son and Mercedes Jones.”

The man nodded and turned away.

“Oh, agent?” The doctor interrupted without looking up as she laid the instruments out on the flap of the rigid case―tweezers, scissors, gauze and tape.

“Ma’am?” the secret service agent responded.

The major added, “I’ll need to see their charts or talk to the doctor that treated them.”

The agent nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“The vice president sends her regards.” Burt slowly unwrapped himself from Blaine by taking a step toward the bed.

“Sue?” Blaine looked baffled as he moved with the twin’s grandfather. He felt better because someone finally did something. Questions filled his mind, but Blaine squashed them when he noted the FBI agents deferred to the congressmen and the secret service.

“Yup, she sent me up here on a fact-finding mission with a wink.”

“Sue?”

“She’s the vice president, after all.”

“Other than the news, I have not heard anything about her in years.”

“Then it will surprise you that she often asks about you and Kurt. I think she had a soft spot for you.”

Blaine rolled his eyes and then smiled. Glancing at his gently snoring daughter, he said, “When I think back, I have to chuckle. She was an odd duck.”

“She did give you a honeymoon,” Burt smiled.

“And you know how that worked out,” Blaine sighed again. “Burt, I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you are here.”

“I could imagine.” Burt sat on the bed beside Alex and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Alex slid closer, and the doctor waited and then continued working. “Carole told me she managed to get through to you. You could imagine she was a little upset.”

“Burt? I . . . I did―” Blaine felt pathetically weak and small.

Holding on to his grandson, Burt patted the bed beside him. When Blaine sat, the congressman draped an arm about his son-in-law. “Don’t beat yourself up, kid. I am just happy you and the kids are alive.”

“Burt?”

“Blaine, shit happens, and there is nothing we can do about it. All we can do is pray and love.”

“But—” A father, peeked at his son’s as the doctor carefully pulled up the edges of the bandaged on his head.

“No, buts, Blaine.” Burt grinned. “We have no control over what others do. Look at the smoke outside. We can do everything we think will protect those we love, but there is always a way around it.”

Blaine glanced up at Kurt’s father, not knowing what to think.

“Don’t get me wrong. I am as anxious as you are. I tried to find out all I could from Washington and got nowhere fast. With information flying at us . . . well, I can’t speak of that.” Burt patted Blaine on the back. “Do you remember our talk in the hospital after you got hit by that car?”

The ex-Warbler nodded as the memory flash disturbed him. On the table, the phone vibrated, and he elected to ignore it.

“The way you answered told me much.” The congressman sympathetically stated. “I saw the love under the pain and anger.”

Blaine looked surprised and then his head drooped.

“I pulled a few strings.” Burt grinned. “It was worth the gamble.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

Leaning into Burt, Blaine rested his head on the other man’s shoulder. “Thank you for making me see how foolish I was.”

“Pain blinds us, but love is more powerful.”

“You’re wise, Mr. Hummel.”

“I guess so. I’ve been married twice.”

Both men chuckled.

Looking at the major, Burt asked, “Well.”

“He’s a good boy. No fussing,” The doctor replied as she replaced the bandages on Alex’s neck and arm. “He’s in good shape.”

Suddenly Blaine glanced at Katherine. “My daughter?”

The major glanced at the sleeping girl studying the bandaged on his arm and head from a distance.

“A nurse told me she suffered a cut on her head that may have impacted the skull. They stitched it up and arm.” Blaine could not take his eyes from Katherine.

The major glanced at Blaine over her glasses and smiled. Her eyes went to the tape, stretching down over Blaine’s pectoral from the bandaged hugging his shoulder. “I don’t want to look at her until I have seen her charts.”

“They want to do a CT when they had a chance. She’s been complaining about the pain.” Blaine sighed with a frown. “We’re all having trouble hearing. It’s getting better, at least for myself.”

“I can see they have her on antibiotics and pain killers.” The major bent down and slipped a new set of gloves over her hands. “Now, let me look at your shoulder and arm. Do you hurt anywhere else?”

Blaine shook his head and endured having the sling and bandages removed. The doctor made some comments about the workmanship of the stitches, which Blaine chose to ignore. With a swab and gauze, she cleaned the area up again while telling Blaine of her service in a mobile hospital during the war in Iraq. Then she went on to say she arrived with six other military doctors and two dozen nurses flown in from Norfolk. The soldiers came from the amphibious assault ship unloading at Battery Park.

By the time the major started to bandage Blaine up again, Craig returned with a nurse wearing bloodstained shoes and pants. The fifty-three-year-old medical professional spoke to the congressman, “Mr. Hummel, I have the emergency reports. They're as complete as they can be under the circumstance.”

The major took them from the nurse and started to look them over.

The nurse nodded to the marine doctor and added, “Your son is in recovery at the Bellevue Hospital Center.”

“Why isn’t he here!” Blaine’s voice squeaked as the major tapped down the new bandages covering his shoulder.

Glaring at the young man, she asked in a hard tone, “Are you a relative?”

Burt did not look happy and bluntly stated, “That young man is my son’s husband.”

The nurse sneered and continued to speak to the Washington personage in a professional tone, “They removed the glass and stabilized him. He needed surgery, and our suites were all in use. We transferred him by air ambulance to the nearest hospital that could accommodate him. As for―”

“I need to see him.” Blaine pleaded with Burt.

An hour later, Blaine stood next to a bed with an incredibly handsome man lying in it. The thought that he had almost lost the man he loved―again―nailed Blaine firmly in place. Holding his secured arm, a happy, but worried, husband, gazed at Kurt’s scratched face. They had him propped up his side to relieve the pressure on his back, with tubes stuck in Kurt’s arms and nose. Relieved by the positive prognosis relayed to him, and he soaked in the comfort he felt from just seeing his lover.

When they arrived, the secret service agent made inquiries and then an orderly took them into the crowded recovery area. Surrounded by the sounds made from a piece of lifesaving equipment, mournful calls and people eagerly talking, few took note of the fully armed marine accompanying them. The corporal relieved the police officer watching over a cubicle big enough for a bed and monitoring equipment. Here, behind a half-drawn curtain, they found a nurse checking on Kurt’s vital signs and the machine hooked up to him. Blaine waited for the nurse to finish his business and then he introduced himself and asked questions. The medical professional responded by saying, Kurt came through the surgery well. The former Warbler sat beside the bed, and the secret service agent disappeared to fulfil the congressman’s request.

When he finally got up the courage, Blaine took Kurt’s left hand with the fingers of his right hand and waited. Within seconds his husband twitched, and Blaine pulled back. A finger abruptly pressed against his and Blaine’s heart rose in his chest. Water blurred his vision as Blaine enfolded Kurt’s thumb in two fingers. His head slowly rolled to the left and Blaine stared at the most precious man in the world. Kurt’s nose cutely twitched, bringing a smile to Blaine’s lips. A thumb slowly rubbed the back of his husband’s hand, stirring up memories of a similar moment. Sentiment rose in his throat and then Blaine began to sing in hushed tones.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WKn6Z4Oxng)

_Nothing's gonna harm you_   
_Not while I'm around_

_Nothing's gonna harm you_   
_No sir, not while I'm around_

_Being close and being clever_   
_Ain't like being true_

_I don't need to, I would never_   
_Hide a thing from you_

The finger pressed against his palm and Blaine’s breath hitched in his throat. His eyelids flickered as a fond grin pulled at his lips.

_Like some_   
_Demons'll charm you with a smile_

_For a while_   
_But in time_

_Nothing can harm you_   
_Not while I'm around_

“I thought I heard an angel,” Kurt weakly said.

Kurt lived! Hours of suppressed emotions exploded, and Blaine uncontrollably sobbed. His head hit the mattress with a thud, and he violently shook. Every cell in his body swelled with love, and he could not stop himself. Long moments of worrying and crazy thoughts swirled away within an overwhelming sense of relief. The two of them would watch their children grow, would fight, and they would enjoy long nights together engrossed in physical pleasure.

A finger curled itself in Blaine’s hair, drawing his attention away.

The crying increased as he moved his head toward the hand, lightly pressed against his hair. Slowly Blaine’s head came up, and he wiped his eyes before whispering, “Oh my god, Kurt?”

“Honey,” Kurt wheezed, and three fingers caressed a wet cheek.

“My darling, darling Kurt.” Emotion bubbled up in Blaine’s trembling voice. Hazel eyes met hooded blue, and the world seemed to shift as two became one. For a brief second, it felt as if everything he had ever done came together. The doubt and hurt of their early years became a footnote of something profound and everlasting.

“I heard your voice in the darkness. Not now, but—” Kurt weakly spoke and then his lips pulled into a smile. “It brought me home.”

Blaine choked on his breath, and his head fell back onto the sheets. The breath he drew in shook as it passed through his lungs and out into his body. Again, the tears came, and no matter what he said to himself, he could not stop.

“It gave me strength.” Kurt struggled through the pain to speak. With slow care, he rubbed two trembling fingers back and forth. “The twins?”

A curly mop of hair came up, and Blaine stared at his husband. Inhaling, he said in a soft tone, “They’re with your father at a different hospital.”

“Dad’s here?” Kurt’s eyes opened as large as they could, which turned out to be no more than a slit.

“If it were not for him, I would not be with you now.” Hazel bore into blue, and the Blaine breathlessly added, “You saved Kate’s life.”

Neither needed to talk because tearful eyes told the story. Slowly, Kurt’s expression morphed into a look of the purest love. “Kiss me, my adorable husband.”

Without hesitating, Blaine carefully leaned over and tenderly place his lips against those of his husband. The taste of their lips celebrated—he lived. His heart blossomed in his chest, and then went suddenly cold. Pulling back, he looked like a grief-stricken puppy.

“Dearest?” Kurt moaned.

Eyes fluttered closed, and when the opened, Blaine trembled. In an anguished tone, he revealed, “Mercedes is dead.”


	36. Demitasse

A twinge of discomfort trickled down Blaine’s arm and back, where the tape holding down the bandage on his shoulder pulled at the skin. The former Warbler whispered to himself and then brushed a hand down his tweed jacket. His head came up, and he peeked through the crack in the curtain at the audience. The sensation took him back to the early days in Dalton and Kurt’s first solo. The thought stiffened Blaine’s resolve bringing a fond smile to his face. As expected, numerous empty seats dot the auditorium due to the confusion gripping the city. On the night of the attack, My Fair Fellow dimmed its lights like the rest of Broadway. 

Much of Lower Manhattan remained sealed off as the crews continued to explore the shattered ruins. The facades from two buildings on Liberty Street crashed down to the sidewalk, and the overhead walkway no longer existed. The larger, third explosion left a twenty-foot-deep and seventy-five feet in diameter hole in the sidewalk in the corner of Liberty and West Side Highway. Paranoia set in, as tip lines buzzed off the hook, creating a circumstance that bred fear. Right-wing groups demanded strict controls on immigrants, restrictions on certain religious practices and mass arrests. The president urged national calm even as the military struck at the terrorist group who calmed responsibility. 

A stagehand pulled the curtain back, and Blaine stepped into the bright lights with a placid look on his face. No longer bound by a sling, his injured arm swung far less than the other. A long red scab created an unusual path down his cheek beneath a clear bandage. Gel matted down the mass of curly hair on his head but not enough to make it look like a helmet. The murmur from the audience reflected the route two men took. Blaine had no idea what the reaction would be until the audience started to clap. A single man rose to his feet and then a small group. Soon over half, the audience dressed in a mix of casual and uptown snooty stood. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Blaine’s amplified voice carried out into the auditorium. “If you would indulge me, I would like to say a few words before the performance begins.”

A few people applaud.

A hard breath later, Blaine turned to face the wing from which he had come and painfully crotched down. He held his arms out and wiggled his fingers to coax Alexander to join his father. The little boy hesitated until someone gave him a gentle nudge. Trotting toward his dad, wearing a bright sweater and dark pants, the white bandage on his neck stood out on the light shining down from above. A hush fell over the hall.

Blaine wanted, no needed, the hug his son gave him. The little boy shivered as he placed his short arms around his father’s thigh. The audience remained mostly silent as Blaine knelt and whispered something to his son. When his head came up, Blaine said, “It has been said, the show must go on. I . . . we . . . all of us are here, have come together in this wonderful place to defy those who would tear down our lives, culture and art. Our fair city suffers again. We suffer again. There are some in this room who will remember the sight as a symbol of the free world fell.”

A rumble passed through part of the crowd, and a few people yelled. 

“After Nine-Eleven, the mayor asked Broadway to open its doors to show the world New York will go on. Tonight, we opened our doors, to tell the world Broadway lives. That New York lives!” Blaine went on as he stared down at his son. He disliked using Alex in this way, but the boy’s head pressed into his thigh made a point beyond steading an apprehensive father. 

A cheer rose from the seats.

“The media are here to see a spectacle, because, as some calm, we mock the memory of the fallen.” Blaine looked out into the crowd as he slowly rose to his feet. The child continued to hold onto his father, who gently laid a hand on the back of Alex’s head. “I say it is never too late to show our humanity by singing, dancing to thumbing our noses up at the bastards who did this thing.”

Several loud, encouraging shouts came from the audience. 

“Thirteen hundred of our loved ones, friends and neighbours will never see this night. In Boston and Philadelphia, nine hundred more will never see another sunrise. Toronto, Glasgow, Bristol, Brussels, Reins, Nice, Cologne, Potsdam, Moscow, Saint Petersburg, Milan and the Vatican add nearly eleven thousand beautiful souls to the list of people who will never draw another breath. Thousands more were wounded, including myself, my son, daughter and husband.” Blaine painfully raised his injured arm as far as he could. “Your parents, spouses, brothers, sisters, children and friends all know someone affected by this travesty. The music must go on. The play must go on. New York must go on. The nation must go on. The world must go on. Life must go on.”

Out in the crowd, someone began to belt out the national anthem, and within seconds everyone rose to their feet singing. On stage, Alex placed his had on his chest as his father sang along. Pam walked out on stage singing while the curtains jerked open, revealing the cast and crew running out on stage. When the words died away, the theatre fell silent as everyone hung their heads for a moment of silence. 

Alex gave his father a puzzled look. Squatting down again, Blaine hugged his son as behind Pam's hand came to rest on her son’s shoulder. Hazel eyes cycled up to his mother to see the pride shining in her eyes. In a booming voice, Blaine broke the emotional silence, “We, the cast and crew, are here tonight to give to our city and its people. For the next thirty nights, we give our voices to the people of New York. All of us on stage are donating our salaries and the theatre owners, the rent to a fund to aid the families of those most seriously harmed by this attack. The doors to this theatre are open to all at no charge. We only ask that you give to those who have lost loved ones and to enjoy our gift of freedom. You may have noticed the donation boxes in the lobby, so please give and help others.”

Thunderous applause echoed out into the empty areas of the theatre. In the background, the crew scattered, and the cast took their positions. Holding his hand out to the understudies, Blaine hugged them both and, with Pam and Alex walked to the wings. The orchestra hit a chord, and in anticipation, the crowd fell quiet.

Kurt grunted as he pulled himself up onto the pillow behind him with a huge, toothy smile. The tablet resting on his knees slid toward to edge of the bed where Blaine caught it. 

“Careful?” Blaine looked concerned and a bit tired. 

“You’re such a mother,” Kurt gazed up at his husband with a fond smile. 

A hand brushed through Kurt’s hair stopping at his neck. “Someone has to take care of you.”

Reality and memory meshed, bringing a smile to a senior citizen’s face. A bead of sweat rolled down from his temple onto his check as the body fought off the increasing bouts of pain. It became harder to breathe, and his heart tightened in his chest. Still, he hung on as he had all those years ago. An old man knew how clingy he could be, but back then, suffocating could best describe how he held onto Kurt. The looks they gave each other in Bellevue Hospital told a story only their souls could translate. Two men cried through a quiet discussion about feeling, family and their future. 

The half-grin on Blaine’s face soured, and he said, “Watching this only reminds me that I really disliked the idea of doing it. I would rather have put up posters and place ads in the paper so I could stay with you.”

“I know, honey and thank you, but you did fine.”

“You insisted I do it this way.”

“You have never been able to resist my pleading eyes.”

“Under the circumstances, how I couldn’t.”

“I know you didn’t like leaving you alone in Washington,”

“Then, I find out you were moved to Lima.”

“My dad’s doing.”

“Stop playing for the pity party,” Blaine’s mother commented from the far side of the room. 

His innards pulled tight when Blaine recalled the glorious view of the ugly scare near the new World Trade Center as his plane climbing to the southeast. His eyes slowly rolled, and Blaine’s arms went wide. “Okay, I get it. But I can’t deny my pouting husband.” 

“And I had nothing to do with it,” Pam placed a hand on her chest and gave son one of those looks.

“Mom?” Blaine shrunk back as images of his childhood sprung into his mind.

Pam gave her son a look only a mother could. “Don’t mom me, Blaine Devon Anderson.”

“You’re in trouble now,” Kurt purred as he pointed at his husband.

“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,” Carole rapped her knuckle on the wall while juggling a fidgeting Alexander on her lap. 

Blaine chuckled only to get a hard look from his mother-in-law. 

Kurt deflected the comment with a friendly smirk at his husband. “You running against my dad?”

“Wha . . . Why?” Blaine smirked as he stroked his daughter’s hair sticking out of the bandage, surrounding her head. The little girl sat in a chair under the window. 

“Look at what happened.” Kurt beamed at this husband. “Within a day, all of Broadway lit up like a Christmas tree.” 

Lowering his head, Blaine fought down waves of nausea. “It killed me to go.” 

“Honey,” Kurt reached out to his husband.

“It did some good.” Blaine took the hand offered to him. “Altogether, Broadway raised almost six million by Friday/.”

“You got recognition from the mayor.”

“I hate politics.”

“You hate my dad?”

Hazel eyes shot open as Blaine stared at his lover. “Err . . . no . . . well, he scares me now and then, but I love the man as if he were my father.”

Kurt playfully winked with a twisted smirk.

“That wasn’t nice, Kurt,” Carole chided.

“I wish I could have been there.” Kurt smiled at the man he loved, even though his forehead scrunched together. Like some sad puppy, Blaine had spent every waking hour at his side, and Kurt soaked it all in. 

After giving his lover an admiring look, Blaine said. “I wish you had. Sucking up to you is much more fun.”

“Boys!” Carole’s eyes darted between the children.

“Mom, it’s not as if I could have anyhow.” Kurt pulled at all the tubs sticking out of his arms. He picked up a plastic suction thing hanging out of the hole in his side and laughed. “With Little Bugger as my constant friend, I don’t think it would have gone over too well.”

“Put that down,” Carole made a face and covered Alex’s eyes. “The kids?”

“Rachel and her clan are coming in tomorrow.” Pam changed the subject wishing the boy's relationship would never grow stale.

Kurt smiled at his mother-in-law. “Thank you for letting them stay at your place, Pam?” 

“They’re family.” Pam carefully picked Kate up and then sat with the girl on her lap. “And I get to play with a newborn.”

Like all funerals, tears openly flowed. Unlike many funerals, hundreds of people attended, including many from the music community and the members of the original McKinley Glee Club. Santana and Brittany brought their son from their home in Texas and Mike came by himself from Montreal. Artie and a pregnant Tina, who now lived and worked in South Africa, drove to the ceremony with a single Sam and a large picture of Finn. Quinn’s two children played with the Schuester brood, and Lauren presented Puckerman’s tearful regards in the form of a video from his prison cell. Burt, Carole, Pam, Cooper, and his gorgeous Swedish wife Agda, stood with Blaine, the twins and Kurt in his wheelchair. 

As a victim of a terrorist attack, Mercedes received a full military honour guard by presidential decree. The fact the vice president attended turned the interment from a media curiosity to a circus. When the ceremony broke up, Sue addressed the press. In her colourful way, Sue told them about what Mercedes meant to her and shared stories of her as a student. Those knew better kept away. 

“That was beautiful, darling,” Jesse said to his wife. Rachel sat in a chair with a blanket over her shoulder breast-feeding. Considering the number of children running about, no one seemed to care. 

“Mercedes would have loved it.” Artie sat next to the dining room table. One of Quinn’s kids sat on his lap. The child’s mother and her husband Karl wandered off to take clean up their other child.

“Rachel, you haven’t lost your touch,” Will commented. He leaned against the comfortable chair Emma sat in with their youngest child resting on his thigh. Their other children played in the dining room with the other kids.

“We did not always see eye to eye, but music was her life.” Rachel looked down at the baby, suckling her breast. “Anything else would have been a travesty.

“Heartbreaking is all I can say,” Tina wiped her eyes with a napkin. Pregnancy looked good on her, but raging hormones had her crying most of the day. 

“I tip my hat to you, Rachel,” Kurt smiled at his school hood friend from the new and plush recliner Burt purchased. Over the past several months, Burt had the main floor extensively renovated. 

“Are you losing your hair, Hummel?” Rachel shot back.

Standing in the expanded foray, Burt ran his fingers over his head. “Give him a few more years.” 

Everyone laughed.

“Thank you for hosting,” Emma commented, putting her tea down beside her. 

Carole replied from the new open concept kitchen. “We’ve all be a family since those first concerts. Does anyone want something to eat?” 

“I’ll help.” Pam stood. Her eyes went to her son, who held a mug of coffee in one hand while the other rested on Kurt’s shoulder. Sad hazel eyes gazed up at the ceiling as if looking to nowhere.

“Me too?” Tina volunteered with a raised hand.

“Tina, relax,” Emma replied with a warm smile. An understanding mother pushed Will forward and got to her feet. 

“Perhaps you are right.” Tina rubbed her swollen eight-month belly.

“So many people,” Sam commented from the area rug where Alexander crawled over him.

“Mercedes touched many with her music and whit,” Rachel commented as her eyes went from Kurt to Blaine and back. It took her a few days to speak Blaine in calm tones after he hung up on her. 

Kurt’s eyes followed hers up to where Blaine sat on the chair arm. “You two argued enough.”

“I wanted her to learn to express herself?” Rachel adjusted the baby in her arms.

Giving Rachel a curious look, Mike commented, “Is that what you called it.”

“I encouraged you all.” Rachel smiled.

“Yeah, in our desire to slap you silly,” Santana bluntly commented from Brittany’s side. Their eight-year-old played with the other kids crowding around Sam. Pity. his way with children did not translate to women. 

“You would know, Santana,” Quinn stated as she and her husband walked into the living room with their little girl between them. The young woman looked much calmer than twenty minutes ago. Sue took an immediate liking to the pretty child who suffered from mild Downs Syndrome and helped calm her at the funeral. The way the aggressive, former teacher reacted conjured up thoughts of Becky, who could not attend because of medical issues. 

“Someone had to keep Jagger lips in control,” Santana responded with a sideway peek.

With something more important to do, a breast-feeding mother rolled her eyes. They hovered on Blaine for a second, and she gave Kurt a quick, concerned gaze. 

Mike gave up his seat on the couch for Quinn, who lifted her daughter to her knee. The dancer crossed his legs as he came to rest on the plush rug in front of the fireplace. Hooded eyes cycled through his friends in the room but hesitated on Blaine. A young man with curly hair barely noticed, but in his future, a man struggling with his impermanence did not like the way it made him feel. Goosebumps rose on thin, aged skin as if a frosty breeze drifted across the room along with the faint scent of fire. The biometric hearing aid implanted in old Blaine’s ear heard a soft hiss, and the brilliance pulled back as if a camera lost focus within a growing haze. Something menacing moved in the dim coils of fog, and then fiery red eyes appeared from within the hazy cowl covering an obscured head. Ringlets of dark fog escaped the pleats of the billowing fabric pulled up over the Collector of Souls' scalp. The wrath like entity, clad head to foot in long, torn, mucky covered robes, advanced at a stately pace out of the sprays of cloud shuffled tarot cards with his boney fingers. The chill of mortality rose and fell about the ominous creature with each step. 

The creature, known by different names in different lands, paused. Death straightened up and the veil about it swirled, causing a pedestal table solidified out of a haze. A vase containing bright flowers grew out of the center of an inconsistent table while other fumes collected into the shape if a vintage tea service. Gathering the creases of his robes, and the Undertaker carefully sat. Vacant scarlet eyes studied the flowing vapours surrounding him where disembodied forms resided in the gloom. Wisps of floating miasma congealed into a transparent vision of a youth lying on the hood of a puke coated car surrounded by falling snow. Vague images tumbled in the murky cloud only to become a human form flying into the air. Divorce strolled by like some proud peacock ready to speak the words it somehow could not find. The fleeting impression of a man holding his bleeding lover to the bottom of a small boat bobbing in the angry English Channel came and went like a spray of water. The flash of a nearby star shown through an oval window peering onto the vacuum of space became the tabletop.

Other visions coalesced into an erratic mash of overlapping sights became an incoherent menagerie that stretched a fragile mind. Guilt and self-loathing dwelt there, creating confusion. Physical pain, heady emotion and great longing argued with each other, and then something lightly touched his sagging shoulder. The older man started. A There stood Kurt, looking both young and refined by age. The man struck a distinctive pose as his bright blue eyes bore into the Grim Reaper as if saying no. The Shinigami’s head violently turned toward the cards, and a puff of smoke randomly freed one. Corrosive waves of disapproval gusted from under the Pale Horseman’s robes and carrying the single tarot up and out of reach.

A gnarled fist smashed on the table, shaking the dainty china teacup sitting next to a round pot with bright yellow roses on it. The redness within the bubbling haze trapped within the cowl deepened, and the puff of air turning the mist smelled like decay. The rotting flesh dripping from the fingers avoided the saucer as Meager Hein carefully picked up the demitasse. Green and gray vapours surrounded the colourful container as the Jeoseung-saja regarded it before sipping. The delicate porcelain chalice found its home the exact second the card landed face up on the starfield. The overflowing folds of the hood moved and Maweth glance down. Knobby knuckles disappeared into frothing mists surrounding Harvester’s face as if scratching a chin. A dancing woman, depicted in vibrant colour and wearing a toga-like dress surrounded by a great wreath, gazed up from layers of pressed paper holding a rod with two sharp points in each hand. One of her hands extended invitingly from the flat surface while the other points up to the heavens laid out on the tabletop.

“The dog chased the cat,” Brittany said out of the blue.

From a place old Blaine could not find the words to describe, he heard Kurt’s silver laughter annoying a ghoulish entity. 

Oblivious to the looks of others, Brittany went on, “They never do catch each other because they are playing with their awakening souls. The conflicts of life find their accomplishment without dying.”

An older adult blinked as the dancing woman rose out of the card as it drifted away into the inconsistency of the void. A ripple transgressed the present to touch a concerned young man. 

“Honey?” Young Kurt whispered to his beloved.

“Yes, dear.” Blaine’s voice could hear barely audible not because of Brittany’s typical out of right field comment, but rather a profound feeling he could not describe.

Kurt’s left hand reached for the finger of his husband’s right only to find them icy cold. 

In the present, the hammering of an agonized heart restrained the breath drawn into old lungs. The increasing battle between the desire and fate let the beleaguered man sense a youthful mind grappling with something unimaginable. 

“Can you please wheel me out to the back deck?” Kurt said loud enough for those close by to hear. His injuries prevented him from walking long distances giving him a new appreciation for what Artie faced each day. 

Blaine just sat there, and Mike rose from the floor where he had been talking with Jesse. Kurt held up his hand only to notice Rachel giving him an odd look. 

Kurt softly pleaded. “Blaine, please?” 

Putting his mug down, Blaine slowly stood. His eyes went to his children playing in the dining room where Sam and Artie entertained the horde of little treasures with tales, games and playful songs. 

His fingers curled around the grips of the wheelchair and Blaine pushed his husband toward the kitchen. Pam, Emma and Carole looked up from the counter where they finished the plating various finger foods. Pam stepped away from the counter and Kurt shook his head. Altering her course, she went to the door and opened it. Worried, she watched the lovers move out to the edge of the terrace. A hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Pam looked back to see Rachel standing there with Kenneth in her other arm. 

“Pull up a chair,” Kurt asked his husband. A quick glance at the door revealed the audience he wished he did not have. 

A seemingly distracted man tugged on a metal chair, and Blaine slowly sat. Looking down, he drew in a huge breath and let it out slowly. 

Taking his husband’s hands, Kurt watched those hazel eyes finding them dark and distant. In a low voice, he asked, “What is it, my love?”

The oddly distant sensation emanating from his memories did not settle well with an old man who felt his life slipping away. 

“You’re freezing,” Kurt’s voice revealed deep fear.

A shudder rolled up old Blaine’s back as the memory of himself resting his forehead against his partner’s hands. Drawing air into his lungs, he let out a trembling sob. 

Fingers stroked gently styled fluffy hair as Kurt bent forward to meet his husband. “My love?”

The sobs continued for a few moments longer and then Blaine rolled his head to one side. Soft, red-rimmed eyes stared up at his husband. 

Running a hand over Blaine’s cheek, Kurt whispered, “You haven’t lost me, and you never well.”

Blaine closed his eyes, and the sobs increased, but elsewhere a puff of air caressed wrinkled skin. 

“My love, I’m here?” The tear rolling from Kurt’s eye and fell upon Blaine's cheek. “Please tell me?”

“Mercedes.” Blaine sputtered on the word.

Kurt swallowed with sudden understanding. Blaine lay there unable to aid those he loved except their son. The pain that resonated from him in the hospital still held, and in turn, Kurt began to cry. Rape and guilt did not compare to seeing the gore and blood of loved ones spilled all over the sidewalk. 

Elsewhere a finger tinged against fine china, sending vibration spinning out through the fragile barrier between life and death.


	37. Gotcha

A great yawn forced his eyes closed, and when they opened again, he smiled for the sake of smiling. The McKendry’s auditorium shocked Blaine when he walked through the doors. Hazel eyes looked around at the greatly enlarged balconies and the waffling of the baffled ceiling. New seats, carpeting and decorations made it look nostalgically out of step with the modern building around it. Despite raising the roof to add a couple of hundred seats, it felt as if he walked into a childhood house.

Eyes went down to the large coffee, he held in his left hand. Although he rolled out of bed at two-thirty, he did not feel abnormally tired. The doctors gave the green light for Kurt to come home, and Blaine felt excited and a tad nervous. After leaving a note on the kitchen table, he slipped out of the house and got into the rented car. For a little while, Blaine absently let his knowledge of the region to dictate his direction. Only when he found himself pulling into the parking lot of the strip mall where Dalton once stood did he realize how far he had gone. Dozens of parking spaces covered the previously beautiful gardens, and Starbucks occupied the tennis courts. Feeling a little lost, he found himself a little while later, turning into familiar parking lot.

Slapping his hand on the back of the chairs as he slowly made his way to the stage, Blaine took a swig of his warm coffee. He remembered this place being noisy, but today, the silence of the large room pressed down on Blaine. This room reflected some of the best days of his youth had been on that stage, coupled with many hard moments that threatened to break him. Here he lamented the pain of breaking up and the joy of coming back together again. The thoughts warmed his heart as his eyes stared at the center of the stage. Lifelong friends danced and sang while he flirted with the adorable geeky teenager he came to love. He relished moving around the area while sneaking peeks and proving his young partner's little smiles and fleeting touches.

The air in the large chamber smelt of new mixed with the faint hints of disinfecting cleaner. Dimly lit by a few recessed lights shining down from overhead, the stage looked eerie. Walking along the wall, Blaine slowly climbed the stairs to the stage. Stopping in the center of the performance area, he turned and looked out at the darkened seats. For a moment, he imagined a jubilant audience as his first lead role, West Side Story, survived its opening night. Guilt touched him because even though the young artist felt good about his performance, the rest of the day had been a stumbling mess. A hand on a chest and the hope shining in warm blue eyes sealed his fate that night. Love dwelt in his heart, and that night he expressed it in a way he had never done before.

Fondly grinning, Blaine walked over to the wing, where he halted in front of Finn’s picture. He half expected to find it gone, and when his eyes fell upon the darkened, imagine Blaine fondly sighed. A finger pushed up on the switch on the wall and light splashed over the picture. A shoe scuffed as he stepped back so he could see the gentle giant. Kurt once admitted to having a crush on the teenager and Blaine could not honestly understand why. Finn’s cuteness did nothing for Blaine, but he did fell jealous when Kurt admitted to having a crush on his step-brother.

Lifting his right hand, Blaine pulled a finger down the glass covering the picture. He paused at the name and whispered, “Finn, your life ended too soon. You did not get to enjoy and watch the birth of your children. I do not know if you would have married Rachel, but she . . . we . . . miss you. You were strong. Always so strong. I was weak, and I failed Kurt. I gave into my base needs. Perhaps you would have. No, that was not your nature.”

The finger fell, and the haunting silence returned. Blaine bowed his head and pulled a picture from his pocket. Tears wet his eye as he stared at the photo of Mercedes from her days at McKinley. He found the wallet-sized picture among Kurt’s things in his old bedroom, Blaine slept in alone for the past three nights. He would apologize to Kurt later to appease his nagging guilt for taking it.

“Mercedes, my dear friend, I would never say this to Rachel’s face, but you had a better voice. You deserve to be here as much as Finn. I do not think he would mind the company.” Softly kissing the photo, a sorrowful man pushed it into the little crack at the edge of Finn’s plague. “The two of you lived your lives to the fullest. Your star will not dim.”

Blaine lowered his head, and the silence returned. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he lost track of time until a slamming door startled him. His head came up with the sound of footfalls quickly approached from behind.

“Blaine?” A familiar voice called out.

Blaine put his hands down on the floor to push up and spun around. His head came up, and he said, “The way you bounce across the stage has not changed, Mr. Schuester,”

McKinley’s principal glanced over his shoulder and said, “And, I see you didn’t climb through the music room window. What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Blaine climbed to his feet and glimpsed at his watch.

Will grinned and then said, “There’s a lot of that going around.”

“I really don’t know why I ended up here.”

“I see Finn is no longer alone.”

“It’s fitting. Mercedes found herself on this stage. We all did, thanks to you.”

“Thanks. None of it would have happened if a bunch of kids did not push an ageing crooner from the past he wished to relive.”

“I don’t think any of us will argue.”

“This stage saw so much.” Will walked out to stand over the front row. “All the kids that have crossed it, but the bunch you belonged to pulled on my heart the most.”

Blaine silently watched.

Will’s arms went out wide. “I observed you all grow up here. You became brave men and women ready to face the world. Look where you are, Blaine. Broadway and New York with the man of your destiny.”

The word―destiny―caused a shiver to run up Blaine’s back. In low tones, the curly-headed man mumbled, “And I just feel so lucky that I found you so soon in this lifetime, because all I want to do, all I’ve ever wanted to do, is spend my life loving you.”

“What’s that, Blaine?” Will glanced at his old student with a curious look.

A ripple passed down the arm with the pain in his shoulder. Lifting his voice, Blaine proudly repeated, “And I just feel so lucky that I found you so soon in this lifetime, because all I want to do, all I’ve ever wanted to do, is spend my life loving you.”

“You said that to Kurt when you asked him to marry you.” Schuester stepped closer.

“Yes, I did.” Blaine smiled.

Sometime later, Blaine arrived at the hospital and stopped for a large coffee and something to eat. Taking his time to drink the steaming liquid, he watched the clock. He lingered a while longer in the café, making a phone call before going upstairs. Blaine paused at the door with a fond little grin before walking over and kissed his husband. The bag he carried contained a fresh set of clothing and the articles Kurt would need to get himself ready to leave. Taking the long way home, he stopped in the park they knew from their teenage years. Together, they sat there watching the river while holding hands. Thumbs rubbing against each other, the silence seemed deafening at times. It soothed.

“I’ve been lying in a bed for days,” Kurt squirmed in the passenger seat. “Can we please go for a walk.”

Sighing, Blaine looked down at the steering wheel.

Kurt’s brows pushed together. “I want to go to our rock.”

Another sigh and glanced away from his husband out the window.

Blue eyes rolled up to the ceiling and then Kurt shook his head. In a low tone, he grumbled, “I thought we had worked through this.”

No response.

“Please, say something.” Kurt pleaded.

Opening the door, Blaine slowly pulled himself out of the car. Stomping around to the other side, he pulled Kurt’s door open. A hand fell in front of Kurt in the most haphazard way.

Staring at the hand, Kurt got suddenly angry. “For Christ’s sake Blaine, if you are going to be like this, you can just take me home.”

The door slammed shut and then Blaine stormed around to the driver’s side and climbed in. The engine revved up, and without a word, he spun out as the left the gravel parking lot.

“Blaine?” The car thumped over a speed bump sending ripples of discomfort up Kurt’s back. “Oh, let just forget it. I don’t know . . . fuck!”

Pulling into the Hummel driveway, Kurt had the door partially open before the car rolled to a full stop. He glanced at his husband, who stared blankly at the garage door. When he arrived at the hospital, Blaine literally bounced in his shoes. Now, barely a word passed between them.

“Blaine?” Kurt moaned. More than a little upset, he pushed the door open and carefully hauled himself out of the passenger seat. With a grunt, Kurt lumbered up the walk to the front door. Stopping on the stoop, he sighed and glanced back to see his husband, who only now got out of the car.

With frustrating slowness, Blaine shuffled up the walk to where Kurt stood with his hand on his hips. He knew that look and lowered his eyes. Then he felt those arms envelop him, and Blaine let out a heavy breath.

“You alright, my love?” Kurt whispered.

Silence reigned for a moment and then Blaine breathlessly muttered, “I’m sorry. I feel lost.”

Kurt pulled his husband tighter. “Ah, Blaine.”

“Boys, not on the front lawn,” Burt’s stern voice interrupted.

Releasing his partner, Kurt’s left hand effortlessly slipped into his husband’s right. A son’s eyes fell upon his father standing in the door setting a pose Kurt knew so well. The bald man shook his head and then turned back into the house, leaving the door open. Kurt glanced at Blaine, and with a firm tug, pulled his lover toward the threshold. Kurt barely got in the door, and the word—SURPRISE—roared out from the living room, followed by the high-pitched voices of kids released from their silence. Kurt’s right hand pressed against his chest, and then he turned to his husband with hard eyes.

“Damn it, Blaine.” Kurt slapped his lover across the chest and then drew him into a hug.

“Gotcha,” Blaine beamed as he reciprocated. Acting before a hostile audience would have been easier than keeping up the façade any longer.

Children gathered about their legs as Kate and Alex pressed in against their fathers with Barbara close behind. The little girl’s mother watched with a huge smile on her face clapping her hands. Jesse lingered next to her with Kenneth in his arms. Sam stood beside Pam and Burt in the hall happily grinning. Santana wrapped an arm about Brittany and their son, Marcus, looking out of place in front of them. Tina stood next to Artie with her hands pressed against her back as if it helped with the discomfort.

Kurt pushed his husband back and pointed his finger at his husband. “Just you wait, mister.”

In his defence, Blaine laid a quick kiss on his husband’s lips and backed away just in case

Eyes still on Blaine, Kurt slowly crouched down so he could hug his children. Squeezing them close, he said to his grinning partner, “I’ll get you back for this.”

“I certainly hope so.” Blaine ruffled Kurt’s hair. Kurt hated it, but his lover did not care.

“You could have warned me?” Kurt commented and then kissed all three kids.

Wearing his usual mechanic chic, Burt teased. “You, Mr. I Guessed My Wedding Proposal, missed something?”

Blushing, Kurt admitted. “Okay, you got me. Surprise, whoopee!”

“Come on, sourpuss. Get over here and share that love.” Rachel held her arms out to her friend.

Slowly and with a certain measure of soreness, Kurt rose to his feet. Marching over to Rachel, he threw his arms about her. “I bet this is all your fault.”

Rachel winked at Blaine in the doorway, surrounded by kids and Sam. “You can take it out on Blaine later. This was all his idea.”

Pam walked up and wrapped her son in her arms and Burt patted his son-in-law on the shoulder while nodding his head. Silent words passed between the three of them. Sam bent down, making faces at the kids who laughed in response.

Kurt whispered to Rachel. “Oh, when I get him alone.”

“I think that is what he had in mind.” She kissed her friend on the cheek.

“Don’t squeeze the life out of him, Rachel.” Carole, wearing an apron smeared with something organic, tapped her on the shoulder.

One more light squeeze, Rachel pushed Kurt into Carole’s open arms. They immediately closed around her stepson, and she cooed, “Welcome home, my boy.”

A tear welling up in his eye, Kurt’s face reddened. “Gee, thanks, mom.”

Pushing her way past Rachel and in front of Burt, Lauren drew Kurt into a surprisingly soft hug. Holding back emotion, she said, “I was so worried. Puck sends his best.”

“When does he get out?” Kurt replied with a hint of hesitation.

The look on Carole’s face came as a warning even though she politely asked, “You never did say what he did.”

With a sigh, Lauren released Kurt from the hug but did not let go of him. “He punched a homeowner with a hose nozzle.”

Blaine looked horrified but could not say a word when Burt brushed by and demanded, “Forget this and stop being a hog him.”

Two women hesitated, and they pulled away with big smiles. With no fanfare, a father swooped in and drew his son into a deep, loving embrace. The look in Kurt’s face told a story, Blaine had no hope in surpassing. The humble bald man inherently understood and had the right words. Blaine loved the man to death.

Dressed in less than flattering clothes, Kurt endured a few jokes as the party swung into high gear. Complaining, no one would let him go upstairs and change. They all knew what that meant—an hour of boredom while Kurt went through his regiment. Little had changed over the years.

Will, Emma and their clan showed up about twenty minutes after Kurt felt like slugging his husband. Burt barbecued as everyone gathered to watch a mass of kids playing in the backyard. Blaine did not leave Kurt’s side except when Katherine fell. Running to her side, he picked up with a big hug and kissed her on the forehead. The little girl shrugged and began to run around again as if nothing had happened. Rachel ribbed Blaine about being such a mother hen.

The next morning Burt and Carole took the twins off their hands so the boys could have a day to themselves. Whistling as he entered the bedroom carrying a tray complete with roses and candles, Kurt stirred. The handsome man sprawled out half-covered by sheets smiled as Blaine put the tray down beside the bed. For the first time since the explosions, they spoke without an agenda.

Returning after taking the tray downstairs, Blaine stopped at the threshold. His handsome husband lounged on the bed, braced by a mound of pillows, reading the latest news from New York. Gingerly, Blaine sat on the edge of the bed and leaned closer as if seeking a kiss. Suddenly made a face and wiggled his nose.

“What?” Kurt’s right eyebrow shot up.

One side of his face pulling up into a grin, Blaine asked, “When was the last time you had a real bath?”

“Do I stink?”

“Let’s just say, you have that medical smell about you.”

“Oh, I guess that means I am squeaky clean.”

Blaine gave his husband an odd look, got up and left the room.

Eyes following, Kurt began to wonder. Now what? Throwing his head back in on the pillow, he rolled his eyes. He loved the man to pieces, but at times Blaine could be infuriating. The past few days became a blur of up, down, sideways, loud, quiet, and it all started to get to him.

A few moments, Blaine returned with a large ceramic bowl filled with hot water, a couple of sponges, small bottles in a plastic bag and three large towels over his arm.

Kurt gave his husband a reserved look. “What are you up to?”

Ignoring his husband, Blaine put the bowl down the side table. Picking up one of the small bottles from the bag, he twisted off the top and sniffed it. Shaking his head, Blaine repeated the procedure, and then he smiled. Pouring it into the water, he swished it around, allowing the heat to release the ambrosia.

“You’re not going to bathe me?” Kurt’s face scrunched up even though he adored the smell of lavender.

The fuzzy-haired man said nothing. Reaching over, he started to unbutton Kurt’s pyjama top. They never wore them at home, so why here?

“Blaine?” Kurt pulled back with a wince. He then tried to push his husband away at the same time.

“Just stop your fussing and sit back and enjoy.” Blaine tried to pull the sleeves from Kurt’s arms.

“Blaine? This is . . . weird.” Kurt grumbled as he resisted Blaine's attempts to undress him.

“Shush and let a man play out a fantasy.”

Kurt’s eyebrows went up, and Blaine stared back with those adorable puppy eyes. The soft, sorrowful gaze drove Kurt to distraction producing an overpowering need to forgive. His head fell back with a huge smile as Kurt gave in. He let Blaine take his shirt off and then the blankets flew back, revealing a pair of half thigh length, form-fitting briefs. With care, he picked his rump off the bed to allow his husband to slide the fabric from his body. Kurt’s smile twisted into a squint of discomfort when Blaine gently rolled him over, ignoring the semi-hard cock Kurt presented. Instead, Blaine laid of rubberized mattress covers used on the children’s beds on the part of the bed Kurt just vacated. Adding a thick, fluffy towel, Blaine rolled Kurt back and then straightened out the other side.

With deliberate calm, Blaine gave the man he loved a long, sensuous gaze and then dipped the soft sponge into the cooling water. The odour of the essential oils wafted into the room as he wrung the sponge out and began to rub it over Kurt’s torso. Careful of the bandages and a semi-hard obstacle, Blaine happily hummed. Shooing Kurt’s hand away from him, he did not allow his husband to lift a finger. In the end, Kurt just accepted and leaned back to enjoy.

Massaging Kurt’s sensitive feet, Blaine smiled evilly as his husband squirmed. Crouching down, so he looked up his husband’s body while pressing his thumb into Kurt’s arches, he started to sing.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yr1p7BvCQ0U&list=RDyr1p7BvCQ0U#t=12)

_You think I'm pretty without any make-up on_   
_You think I'm funny when I tell the punch line wrong_   
_I know you get me, so I let my walls come down, down_

Kurt sudden beamed and his mind flashed to Dalton that unforgettable day the first met.

_Before you met me, I was alright_   
_But things were kinda heavy, you brought me to life_   
_Now every February you'll be my valentine, valentine_

Dancing away from the bed, Blaine tugged at his bow tie, ripping it from about his neck. Swinging it around his head, he tossed it at his naked husband. A moderately exciting part of Kurt’s anatomy swelled.

_Let's go all the way tonight_   
_No regrets, just love_   
_We can dance until we die_   
_You and I, we'll be young forever_

One by one, Blaine undid the buttons down, not from the neck of his polo shirt. His pelvis seductively rotated as he pulled at cloth tucked into his pants.

_You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream_   
_The way you turn me on, I can't sleep_   
_Let's run away and don't ever look back_   
_Don't ever look back_

The shirt came up playful as Blaine tightened stomach muscles showing them off. The shirt came up on the right, revealing as Blaine pulled his arm through the sleeve. Pain shot up his back, but he did not care. The purple scab looked ugly, but Blaine showed it off as if were some badge of honour.

_My heart stops when you look at me_   
_Just one touch, now baby I believe_   
_This is real, so take a chance_   
_And don't ever look back, don't ever look back_

The shirt pulled at wisps of coiled hair as it passed over the head. Whipping it around, Blaine thrust if down between his legs and rocked himself back and forth. Kurt began to clap with the beat.

_We drove to Cali and got drunk on the beach_   
_Got a motel and built a fort out of sheets_   
_I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece_   
_I'm complete_

Two hands pressed down on Blaine’s rippling stomach as he bent back.

_Let's go all the way tonight_   
_No regrets, just love_   
_We can dance until we die_   
_You and I, we'll be young forever_

One sock and then another found themselves playfully thrown at Kurt. Kurt laughed as they both feel shot of the target.

_You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream_   
_The way you turn me on, I can't sleep_   
_Let's run away and don't ever look back_   
_Don't ever look back_

A button popped and then the slow, tantalizing play with this zipper. Splayed fingers pressed beneath the fabric and as Blaine ran his tongue teasingly along his lips.

_My heart stops when you look at me_   
_Just one touch, now baby I believe_   
_This is real, so take a chance_   
_And don't ever look back, don't ever look back_

Reaching to his knees as if Blaine intended to rip the pants from his body. He suddenly swirled about poking his ass out at his husband before dancing backward. The stretched fabric of Blaine’s pants stretching across Blaine’s glory hole rubbed against Kurt’s toes.

_I'm a get your heart racing in my skin-tight jeans_   
_Be your teenage dream tonight_   
_Let you put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans_   
_Be your teenage dream tonight_

The pants suddenly fell, and Kurt found dark blue undies staring him in the face. A pair of round, firm cheeks moved around in circles, and then Blaine embarrassingly hopped around as he fought with the right leg. Heaving it off, he twirled his trousers about before tossing them to one side.

_You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream_   
_The way you turn me on, I can't sleep_   
_Let's run away and don't ever look back_   
_Don't ever look back_

Two thumbs played with the elastic of his form-fitting Aussie rower shorts and down to his ass crack. Two hands messaged firm buns and the thick shaft pressing against the elastic fabric.

_My heart stops when you look at me_   
_Just one touch, now baby I believe_   
_This is real, so take a chance_   
_And don't ever look back, don't ever look back_

Taking up the bottle of mineral oil, Blaine rubbed it over the body in the most sensual manner and making it shine in the dim light. Pressing his liquid-soaked hands down into the last stitch of clothes he wore, he lubricated his erection bulging in his tight underwear.

_I'm a get your heart racing in my skin-tight jeans_   
_Be your teenage dream tonight_   
_Let you put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans_   
_Be your teenage dream tonight_

Without warning, Blaine tore at the seams of the cloth covering his manhood, ripping it away from his engorged cock. Blaine rotated his hips so that the joy of Kurt’s most loving dreams twirled in front of his husband. Repeating the last lines of the song, Blaine danced about, waving his torn undergarments in the air. Suddenly he threw them to his smiling husband, who reached to catch them.

“My god!” Kurt pressed it to his nose. The combination of his husband’s musk and the lavender made his heart flutter.

“Oh, no, you haven’t seen my god, yet.” Blaine beamed as he crawled up onto the bed.

With care, Blaine took his husband’s hard cock in his mouth and began to play. With all the skill of a seasoned professional, his tongue rolled over the head and down to the balls. Keeping himself balanced so that he did not put excess weight on Kurt, he played that fine instrument in the most sensually erotic manner. The receiver laid his head back as his legs slowly spread.

Ignoring the pain dispersing up his back, Kurt felt warm all over. In a strangled tone, he said, “What a wonderful surprise and . . . well . . . wow . . . I can’t believe . . . so good.”

A finger found the spot of Blaine’s husband’s inexhaustible desire.

“God’s . . . yes!” Kurt yelped. “Not—"

Lightly tickling a willing hole between oiled cheeks, Blaine playfully tormented. Caressing finger toyed with him loose curls telling him his husband appreciated everything he did. Carefully placed lashes brought Kurt to the place Blaine desired. By the way, Kurt’s body reacted Blaine know his husband wanted something hard deep inside. Continuing his pleasant torments, Blaine felt the telltale signs and then Kurt thrust up into his mouth. The gush of salty liquid splashed against the back of the throat and Blaine swallowed everything offered to him. The tongue teased his delectable lover through his orgasm and beyond. At the moment he felt Kurt could stand it no longer, Blaine formed a seal around his husband’s shaft pulled his head back. At the last moment, Blaine slid his mouth up the shivering cock producing a moist popping sound when his lips slid away. An evil grin pulled up Blaine’s lips as he gazed up the rolling hills of Kurt’s hard, heaving stomach to see the lovely man panting.

Kurt lay there for a moment and then his hand moved to caress Blaine’s dense curls. In a husky voice, Blaine quietly announced, “Definitely gotcha.”


	38. The Unthinkable

Who would know him?

Who would care?

How had he gotten to this point?

The palpations of an overworked heart forced the mind to concentrate on the memories a struggling old man desired. Where he once saw his remembrances with disturbing clarity, it all smashed together into a blur. The maelstrom bubbled and swirled before it indiscriminately threw shattered visions at a battered consciousness. Fragile brain functions laboured to find hope within the mire it jumbled experiences. Two lovers recovered from their injuries and returned to the stage to standing ovations. They celebrated Blaine’s fiftieth birthday with his brother in Los Angeles during a family reunion. A curly-headed child cried after stubbing his toe in the playground, and his mother came to comfort. Kurt sang on stage, trying to get a coveted part only to have Blaine steal it out from underneath him. Environmental reality struck when the high tide mark matched the seaside sidewalk on the Miami waterfront. Burning explosions tore mountain villages apart as the world powers expanded their war on extremism. Two toddlers ran down the hall and around the corner only to smash into a loving father. A daring police raid in Spain revealed a previously unknown extremist faction responsible for bombings worldwide―The Fourth Reich― hid under the umbrella of a Middle Eastern religious fanatism.

Irrespective of ever-changing sights, sounds and smells, a fading mind held onto a fond period of a young life. A man lay in a hospital bed, barely awake, and then two husbands sat side by side on the flight back home. The second renaissance of their loving relationship bloomed around them, dissolving their previous difficulties. In the morning, they snuggled in bed until the twins demanded their attention. At night they did what they loved―pranced around on stage, pleasing their many fans and other things.

All in all, the days and weeks turned out to be a marvellous mix of anxiety and transformed passions. Kurt called it a second honeymoon, and Blaine did not argue. Flowers showed up on the hall side table and little treats pleasantly surprised. Date nights returned, as did long walks hand in hand through the park. The twins reacted to the spreading love and blossomed even as they screamed and made their messes.

Rachel went back to the stage, and two husbands often had four children at their place. Burt dropped in once or twice a week on his trips to and from Washington. With the divorce hearing pending, Pam headed to the South Pacific for a few weeks. The man who walked away from Blaine contacted his once-upon-time son shortly after the movie passed the one hundred-million-dollar mark. He showed up in New York, wanting to go out for dinner and catch up. Two cautious men met Daniel at his hotel only to find the man sitting there with his hand out. To make a point, Kurt paid for the Anderson-Hummel’s, leaving Daniel to hold up the expensive end of his bill. It turned out to be the last time Blaine saw who he called his pretend father.

Moving air sent shivers caressing up his arms and down his back, leaving a sense of fond loving existentialism in its wake. Deep down in a conflicted mind, a spot of calm set heavenly fibres coiling about the memories of a tarot card dancing in the wind. Rising and then suddenly falling, the pressed layers of paper showed a new face as if the slot machine of life could not make up its mind. The Eight of Pentacles, the Five of Cups, Wheel of Future, and the Ace of Cups fluttered tumbled to the forefront as if they needed to express themselves. From out of nowhere, the Six of Swords, in reverse, knocked them one by one back into the storm.

Thin white hair pulled against his lover’s sweater as hazel eyes struggled to see a picture behind the piano. A whirling card bounced off other revealing the Four of Wands― Home. At the same moment, Kurt came into view, and his thoughts went to his family? Every one of them lived in an old man’s heart, especially his beloved husband and the twins. Parents and children spoke every day by hologram, but it never soothed the longing in Blaine’s heart. Alexander visited earlier this year, but Katherine’s arthritis made the three-hour flight difficult. The last time she came to New York proved to be a joyous occasion mixed with a good dose of arguing. Kurt blew a gasket, and Blaine tried his best to be a peacemaker.

An elderly gentleman hoped to survive long enough to hear the click of the electronic lock and the joy in her voice. Even though part of him wanted to impart some last words of wisdom, but, on the other hand, he did not want to experience her panic. Would she shed tears of sadness or that odd expression of awe because two loving men passed from this life in each other’s arms? A fractured heart and weary emotions needed sobs of joy.

Mary put up with two cranky old men with a combination of humour and anger. Not only did she look like her mother, but she also inherited her grandmother Rachel’s temper. One moment Mary joked that her grandfathers lived in a building filled with old fossils who refused to see recognize the new world reality. Then, like a light bulb flicking off, she would be pounding the table top making point. Even though she had a power of attorney, she could not bring herself to break two old hearts. Some members of the family wanted the famous couple to rest high and dry with the heroes of the entertainment industry in the National Cemetery with other, exhumed and reburied, famous Americans.

Old hazel eyes glanced about the room at the stacks of boxes and blank walls. The shelf behind the old piano remained the only thing left to pack other than a few personal items. Prized moments of a long and fulfilling life lay about him, and old Blaine understood Mary’s intent on leaving them for last. Fred, with Travis’s help, shipped the heavy, antique furnishings to their future and smaller abode three weeks ago. The one hundred and twenty-one-year-old baby grand piano and letters from various presidents found themselves donated to the Museum of the Arts in the nation’s new capital. Blaine’s original scores and Kurt’s handwritten version of his children’s books, and their many awards remained in the control of the family.

Toes curled up inside an old man’s slippers as a sharp wave of pain raced put from his heart to attack his body. Muscles stiffened, and the mind slipped, and the body gave in. Fear grappled with pain, thought and emotion in a last-ditch attempt to press life to its fullest. In the end, a loving life boiled down to a colossal waste. No one would recall the little things that made Blaine, Blaine, or Kurt, Kurt. Their existence would dwindle with each passing generation until, perhaps, a tiny historical footnote may remain. Hopes and dreams, love, hate, worries, successes and failures all rolled up into a single word—what? Truths and speculations clash with pleasures and attitudes, creating a dependency logic refuses to renounce. Life spoke of the human need that family, friends, wealth and power would bring everlasting happiness. Why live, toil and succeed only to have the darkness take it all?

A question formalized does not mean someone might ask it. Old Blaine found himself pondering the mindfulness of his pending death. The faint absurdity that he may have lived before stalked the subconscious challenging a disciplined mind. It played on an aged man in of competing waves, dark and light, which drilled a sense of eternity into his stubborn streak. Its unpredictable nature reminded him of the cycle of day and night. Every night the mind of the sleeping body, irrespective of dreams, knew nothing of the reality around unless something jarred the body awake. In contrast, the light of day often boggled the mind with the pressures of life’s realities. What if, like day and night, life and death, represent the cycle of existence where nothing really gets destroyed?

Old Blaine’s failing heart gladly gasped at this subtle alternative to traditional ways of thinking. Once more logic dug its heels in complaining of flights of fancy, but some more significant part of his existence held out a hand and finger touched it. Two men, dressed as if they strolled through the alleys of Jane Austen's novel, morphed into his consciousness. Curly locks of graying hair rustled in the wind as these two men gazed at the crisp blue water surrounded by bright, warm sunshine. New experiences brought the colourful face of the Hermit into full view as a tarot card intruded on his reflections. The thick stack of paper flickered way into the fog, and the Regency period suddenly looked like himself, Kurt. Could the two of them lived and loved back then?

Nothing felt as it should. The fate haunting the essence of life patiently waited off to one side, holding a beautiful china teacup in his boney fingers. Undulating red eyes gazed through darkened mists watching with an amused smirk. On occasion, the Reaper played with the mind as it drifted into the sleeping world. Often, during the long days of his life, Blaine laid in bed at night, trying to rationalize this indescribable feeling. The frailty of mortality best defined the battle between the hard rules of the physical incarnation and the fluidity of the spirit.

The heart squeezed as if the drama of life did not want to see the clarity these thoughts forged. The greyness between light and dark bubbled and swirled as if it could not understand what it should do. Black energies tugged confusion one-way while the brightness tried to keep it from pulling away. Somewhere in the middle faint green hue flashed a hint of indigo and red. Each pulse touched the turbulent chaos where hints of blue, yellow, orange and violet sparkled like tiny points of brilliance. Strange sensation caressed a constricted throat, and for a second, old Blaine thought he heard an echo. The mind stumbled on the murmuring an old man always found intoxicating.

Like a bud reborn in the spring, the eight pigmented petals of a flamboyant blossom swirled together, forming the matrix of life. Where the workings of a mortal mind expected gates and angels, the spirit perceiving a great tree. Roots and branches worked their way through the underpinnings of creation, touching every living thing. Peaceful harmony cast doubt on the torments imposed by the yin and yang of a physical existence transcending normality. The brilliant hues of light and the dimness of the encompassing blackness played on the inside lining of the closed eyelid, giving the heart what it wanted. Rays of sunlight spread across luxurious brown leather and sparkled off metal. Ghostly forms moved within the veil, where the living and spiritual realms met in transition. Forward momentum ceased, and the vibrancy of the centre of a dazzling bloom expanded. Colour gave way to a smartly dressed young man step out of the back of a classic Rolls Royce to face the crush of screaming fans.

Skin met skin, and Kurt looked up to see bright hazel eyes gazing at him. Blaine tried to hide his wariness with an elated smile, though his husband knew better. The bed in Cooper’s new house felt hard as Blaine lay there staring at the ceiling in the wee hours of the morning. Pinned by his husband draped over him softly purring, he felt restless. When Kurt finally rolled over, Blaine slid out of out from under the sheets. Moments later, he sat on the porch with a cup of coffee, watching the sun come up thinking. His brother offered to take in the Anderson-Hummel family for the prestigious event. The twins loved the pool, and the goodies aunt Agda showered on them.

Blaine recalled feeling Kurt’s fingers in his hair, followed by a soft kiss on the back of his neck. Cuddling up on the outdoor loveseat beneath a soft blanket, two lovers shared a long moment of comfortable peace. A buoyant brother ruined perfection when he bounced through the French doors with a mischievous look on his face. Agda cooked up the most fantastic Swedish breakfast, and then Pam took the twins off the father’s hands. An eager Kurt pampered his OSCAR nominated husband with a message followed by a long, steamy shower. By one-thirty, Blaine had tamed his mane of fuzzy hair and prepared to slip into one of the perks of the occasion―designer tuxedos.

Young or old, the same thought raced through Blaine’s mind. In the present, it soothed the volcano erupting, and in memory, it eased the fear of facing the cameras. It all boiled down to the practiced look of an actor staring back at Blaine from within the car. A squeeze of the hand brought an adorable little smirk to Kurt’s lips, and then Blaine sigh. From out of nowhere, Kurt leaned forward and kissed Blaine, making it part of the public record. The pleasure of Blaine slipping the fingers of his right hand into his husband’s left hand turned into the grounding calm. Together, the two men walked the carpet, exchanging quiet words of endearment and encouragement.

Near the end of this segment of the high-pressure experience, stood a polite, well-built man with an earpiece. With expert ease, he pointed the couple toward a concealed break in the golden curtain separated the waiting celebrities from the public. Unlike the rehearsal the day before, the celebrities who preceded Blaine and Kurt adorned themselves in the best money could offer.

A great sigh escaped Blaine’s lips the moment he stepped away from the spectacle beyond the curtain. Tiny beads of sweat rolled down his backbone, and the moistness of the palm pressed into Kurt’s skin, making Blaine feel uncomfortable. Hazel eyes noted blue, staring back at him. With a light tug, Blaine pulled his handsome husband to the right and away from the entrance. Hollywood movers and shakers mingled about them sipping champagne or sparkling water and making small talk. On the other side of the vast area, three men and a woman howled in laughter as two A-list actresses glared at each other. Waiters in white jackets moved about offering drinks and picking up the empties.

Blaine let go of Kurt’s hand just long enough to retrieve two wineglasses of water from a passing waiter. His husband took the offered glass offered and then joined their fingers with Blaine's. The cooling liquid bubbled in Blaine’s mouth, and when he swallowed, it felt incredible as it slid down his throat.

“Is that Cher?” Kurt’s whispered with a slight squeak to his tone.

“You’re asking me? You’re the one who reads all the rags.” A quick squeeze of the of his husband’s hand got Blaine the desired response―a bright, toothy smile. Kurt did not smile that way all that often, and when he did, it lit a fire in Blaine’s heart. He needed a wonderful distraction.

“Kettle?”

“Yes, pot.”

“You’re always squirming into my arms when I pick up People.”

“I like looking at the pictures.”

“Yeah, right.”

“If a few words find their way into my eyes, so be it.” Blaine innocently shrugged as he led his husband to the edge of the gathering. A famous couple entered the sheltered area behind them and immediately turned to the left. At the other end, someone directed an older actress toward the avenue where the press demanded posed and comments.

“Can you believe this?” Kurt’s grip on Blaine’s hand tightened.

While he understood Kurt’s excitement, Blaine sighed. “We’ve been through this before.”

“Not like this.”

“It’s a little scary, isn’t it?”

“At least you got to practice and meet members of America’s royalty.”

“Is Princess Anne showing up.”

“Maybe Bob the Drag Queen.”

Blaine gave his partner a funny look even as he watched one of Hollywood’s most influential producers saunter past with his wife. The middle-aged man looked around and then joined a bunch of people.

Playfully learning into his lover, Kurt saucily said, “Elbow, elbow. Wrist, wrist. Cross your heart and blow a kiss.”

Surprise flashed across Blaine’s face, and then he laughed. “You’re a treasure.”

“I still can’t believe we even got here.”

“Patience, love and a good shrink can do wonders.”

Kurt gave his husband a withering gaze and then smiled. “You okay?”

“I can ask the same of you.”

“As you said, a good shrink can do wonders.”

“Sorry.”

“I know you're as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof.”

“You’ll do fine, honey.”

“I was lost in our world until the car door opened, I . . . I see Ang just arrive. We should join him.”

Hand in hand, the couple weaved through the chatting Hollywood elite to where Ang talked to other people from the movie. The OSCAR winning director looked at ease, and the sight made Blaine less frantic.

“Kurt, it’s good to see you,” Ang split away from the movie’s producer and lead actor to off a hand. “And, Blaine, you looked stressed.”

“It shows?” the young composer admitted as he shook Ang’s hand.

“He didn’t sleep well,” Kurt injected.

“A virgin’s nerves,” the handsome, lead actor responded as he offered a hand. A veteran of five average movies and a television series, the young man just received his big break. Like Blaine, the nomination opened doors. Unlike Blaine, the actor had the apparatus to manipulate success.

“Look who’s calling who a virgin,” the executive-producer shook his head and slapped the actor on his back. “Don’t listen to him, Blaine. He probably peed himself when he got the news.”

The young actor gave the producer a rolling eye look. He then offered Blaine a warm hug along with a wink to Kurt. “Just take my lead, and you’ll be pointing the right way in no time.”

Blaine returned an odd look, and then he laughed. “Cooper says break a leg.”

“Literally?” the lead actress commented as he strolled up to the gathering with a slightly older man on her arm.

Blaine cringed. Two producers and the director stood between the nominated actor and the actress. On-screen their chemistry garnered praise while behind the scenes, their animosity demanded their dressing rooms be separated. Eventually, a well-dressed woman approached the group to provide instructions. Members of their party disappeared one by one until she returned for Blaine and Kurt. Kurt quickly kissed his husband, and together, they walked off to face the cameras. Bright sunshine, lights, and the flashes of cameras brought out the subtle swirling iridescent details of the black fabric of Blaine’s modernized early nineteen hundred’s white tie look. In contrast, Kurt’s matching, dark burgundy tails, and vest complemented his flamboyant flair. A friend, who happened to be one of New York’s up and coming new designers, offered to dress in a fashion harmonious with their musical.

The dim of the theatre darkened their vision until their eyes adjusted. When they found their seats, they idly chatted with those around them until the one-minute warning sounded. A quarter of the way through the ceremony, Blaine got up from his aisle seat to head backstage. There he prepared himself while two of Hollywood’s shining new stars announced an award. When the excitement up-front died away, the separation between the front and the back of the stage rose, revealing Blaine seated behind a pure white grand piano and backed by scenes from New Zealand. Angled to face the audience, Blaine gazed under the instrument’s open-top at the man he loved.

After Blaine returned to his seat, categories came and went as presenters tore envelopes followed by the elation of the winners on stage. The category Adapted Screenplay came and went, and then one of the world’s most important composers and a beautiful, young actress walked out on stage. Standing to either side of a transparent podium, they announced the nominees for the Original Score. With each name, Blaine found himself fighting nagging doubt while his fingers dug into his husband’s hand. The splitting of the envelope seemed to take forever, and then two words glued Blaine to his seat. In that instant, he imagined his family yelling and Rachel’s scream from the other side of the nation. Shocked into a stupor, the gentle prodding from the loving man beside him urged Blaine to stand. Kurt rose with him, and, on instinct, Blaine threw his arms around Kurt, drawing him into a short, but passionate kiss.

After sharing hugs with Ang, the producers and stars, Blaine took one step out into the aisle to make his way to the stairs. A kiss from an actress he knew by reputation and a handshake from the composer he idolized preceded the coldness of a famous statue against his skin. For a second, the thought he would drop it, but then he thought he heard Kurt yelling his name. With an adoring smile in his husband’s direction, Blaine raised the coveted statue above his head.

Everything became real the moment the microphone stared Blaine in the face. Hesitation stuck, and he felt his mouth go dry. Somewhere beyond the blinding light sat his beaming husband. A quick, deep breath brought a smile to Blaine’s handsome face, and then he cleared his throat. Clutching coveted statue next to his chest, he started to speak. “Wow . . . Unbelievable . . . Wow . . . Never in a million years would I have thought I would be standing up here . . . What to say . . . Ang, thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking a chance on this no-name product. And June, thank you for talking me into singing that night. To the Academy, thank you . . . Wow . . . To the cast and crew, you’re the greatest. You took me under your wing and helped this newbie navigate a wonderful experience. To my husband, Kurt, you’ve always been my rock. This is for you, babe.”

Someone off stage gave the signal for time’s up. Walking off with the presenters, Blaine heaved a colossal breath to still his pounding heart. Once out of sight, he turned to look back to see a famous singer and an acclaimed actress stepped forward to announce the nominees for the next category. Once more, the world heard Blaine’s name and then a short recap of his song. Then those words―and the winner is―galvanized everyone's attention. Minutes later, a group of five men and women clamoured onto the stage to receive their awards. Deflations struck, and then Blaine glanced at the golden statue he cradled against his chest.

The couple returned to Cooper’s four-bedroom gated home well after midnight to a jubilant mother and brother. Kurt called back east to find the Hummel residence wide awake and bubbling with enthusiasm. The glamour of happy voices over the speakerphone lasted half an hour, and then an emotional and somewhat tipsy Blaine announced he wanted some alone time. A little while later, two men carried their drowsy twins back to their bed along with a stuffed dog. Their little wonders crawled into the area between their parents.

The family lay there until gentle sleep brought to end a beautiful day.


	39. Reflections

Fear had no hold on Blaine as he stared at the spherical wall of pure white light surrounding him. Vacant of any sense of time, distance, weight, touch, sound, smell and emotion, some vague aspect of corporeal consciousness lingered somewhere in his psyche. The tiny touch seemed to be an echo of a lost existence versus his present state. Age, youth, and experience tickled Blaine’s new reality as if searching for a means to remain relevant when the vehicle drove backwards on a straight road.

“At last,” a faint whisper brushed an ear.

Something similar to conscious thought let Blaine perceive sound as vibration rather than an audible sensation. In some unexplainable way, the tremors etched lines in the white radiance creating hazy visions. A boy with unruly hair, happily screamed as he ran through tall blades of whitish grass on short, stubby legs. Elsewhere, eight colours combined to reveal a man in a long cape strolling darkened streets trailed a lad carrying a hooded lantern. Somewhere else, a middle-aged man stared past paint-spattered hands at a bloody, half-finished portrait on the floor. He barely noticed the knife sliding across his throat.

“How quaint.” The same voice accelerated the rate of change as more images came and went. “The dribble of the little things?”

Blaine’s head moved from side to side as he watched the alterations in the pulsing whiteness. Transparent fingers, minus the internal structure, brushed the locks of clear, curly hair away from the face. Incredulously Blaine stared at his hand, noting how taunt and youthful the colourless skin appeared. The encompassing brilliance played off the epidermis to frolic between numerous faint layers. The subtle rainbow effect enhanced each thin level, hinting that some aspect of an earthly existence may yet survive.

“Emotional abstinence, what a wonderful nuisance.” The intelligence behind the voice paused.

The undulations playing on the globe became a projection spread on pigment free skin. A shiver ran up Blaine spin though he had no conscious idea why. The surface texture changed, so it reflected the brightness like snow sparkling in a flickering light. Like a mirror speckled with ice crystals, the reflections quivering beneath the skin morphed through the phases of his life.

“Ah, yes. The body may give out, but the essence will be reborn again. We may mourn our passing, but we will rejoice when we meet again. The soul is everlasting and transgresses the physical realm.” The deep, hoarse voice came from beside Blaine. “Who told you this rubbish?”

“Kurt.” Blaine reticently stated. The strangeness of Blaine’s form flipped through the moments of a long life to finally settle on a point in his youth that would change his life forever.

“Surprising for one who professed not to believe.” The hushed vocalization originated from everywhere all at once. “You always liked the sappy stuff.”

“They’re good words.”

“Like all things, you can’t take words with you.”

Goosebumps rose on Blaine’s transparent outer layer, giving him a moment of consideration. He stated, “The tears.”

“Games. Really?” the voice sounded annoyed.

Several of the inner layers quivered, and Blaine’s expression changed.

“I see where this is going. You're unwilling to give it up. Okay, I’ll indulge you,” The voice drew the next syllables out. “The blessing.”

“Fruits of the land.”

“And of course, the cycle of life followed by the fallacy of enlightenment.”

“The beginning and the end.”

“Yes, yes, the next being cognitive wisdom.”

“Ethical conduct.”

“Blah, blah, blah . . . Right actions involve bodily actions.”

“Righteous ways of peaceful living.”

“Efforts of achievement.”

“Thought and clear consciousness.”

“How tiresome, but I’ll give you mental force.”

“Abstinence from harm.”

“Refrain from overindulgence and laziness.”

“The purity of the soul.”

“Useless words in an attempt to explain the endless struggle with ego.” Menacing laughter rippled through the whiteness generated deep gray waves that began to overpower the light. “Everyone tries to rationalize reality, when in truth, it exists beyond their limited comprehension. Ego, purity, righteousness are but reflections of a misunderstanding.”

“Oh my god.” Blaine glanced about at the mosaic of ever-changing simulacrums projected on the surface of a retracting sphere. Stark whiteness gave way to colour as images of the same individual in differing circumstances of life and periods in history.

“You have to be joking?” The whiteness shrunk into darkness as a silhouette reminiscent of cloth blowing in the wind moved to Blaine’s left. “Whatever you worship has little to do with anything.”

“Who are you?” Blaine quietly asked.

“I’ve been waiting for thee, Mr. Blaine Devon Anderson.” Something detached from the spreading darkness. It moved like a wisp before taking the form of an ornate, high backed chair beside a small, round table. Other parts of the billowing cloud rippled into a sheet of black, torn fabric that draped over the cushions of the chair. The lack of depth puffed up to take on vaguely humanoid contours.

Blaine gave the apparition an appraising look.

“Please, have a seat.” A second chair coalesced out of the growing gloom next to Blaine.

The pallid form sat.

“You don’t recognize me, Mr. Blaine Devon Anderson?” An elbow, walled in tattered, black fibres, came to rest on the table as the faceless form in overflowing robes leaned close. “You’ve asked the eternal question often enough. My apologies for not replying until now, but you know how it is.”

“You’re Death,” Blaine said in even tones.

“One of many personas.” The frothing mists beneath a large hood emulated delight.

Somewhere deep down inside the layers beneath his transparent skin, Blaine sensed something out of place.

The long folds of the Grim Reaper’s sleeve passed over the table. The swirling mist floating over the centre of the table became a dainty and colourfully decorated china service. The Angel of Death seductively asked, “May I offer you some tea?”

The calm infusing Blaine quivered as if one of those remote pings from another world echoed back at him.

“Come now, Mr. Blaine Devon Anderson. How can we have a civilized discussion if silly emotions consume you?” Ghoulish fingers lifted the teapot and poured a measure of steaming, light brown liquid into each cup. Long, thin, gnarled extremities gently picked up the silver tongs and deposited two cubes into the hot liquid nearest to the Mortician. “Would you like cream and sugar?”

Hazel eyes remained transfixed on his hand even as Blaine’s head tilted to the left. The descending gloom played with the decaying radiance adding a pinkish tinge to the outermost layer of his transparent nakedness. A few of the inner layers pressed upward, giving the surface an indescribable sensation of depth. The right hand turned palm up, and the left slowly followed.

“How sickly sweet.” Red eyes rolled within the mists beneath the hood. The Harvester leaned closer while gnarled fingers moved within the mists surrounding an unknown face. “What were the words? Yes . . . Peaceful affection caresses the soul. Embracing transient mortality . . . Ah, that word, mortality. It means so much and yet so little.”

Unable to assemble a response, Blaine looked up at the significantly smaller sphere. Faint colour flashed within its structure, producing an image. Two eyes made of dark fabric gazed at him from around a vertical sheet of metal. The stuffed animal playfully moved, and then a jubilant face man appeared.

“Come now, Mr. Blaine Devon Anderson, you know I can’t be cheated.” The Ghoul edged closer to the man across from him. “This moment comes to all things.”

“Even one such as yourself?” Blaine boldly stated.

A decaying finger twitched, and the dark shadows over the table coiled around themselves until they became a small chest. The ornately carved lid slowly opened, and Hades extracted at a deck of large, colourful cards with the artistry of the back facing up. With care, the manifestation of the Ferryman started to shuffle. When done, the Fend fanned the seventy-eight cards out on the table that strangely expanded to hold them all. In a chilling voice, the Densen commented, “Choose one, and let’s see what your fate might be.”

Hazel eyes glanced at his left hand to see the slightest colour trapped in the churning shades of grey.

“The ascendancy of life does not dwell beyond the veil of the living,” Scáthach, the Celtic goddess of Death, pointed out. “Indicate a card, and we can keep this process as pleasant as possible.”

The remaining light blinked off as if someone pulled a plug, leaving two seething points of red beneath a barely recognizable hood. The growing intensity of the eerie radiance illuminated the cards and played off Blaine’s shadowy features. Nothing else existed. No light. No indents. No Kurt.

“This is not what I expected?” Blaine muttered without sentiment.

“Were you expecting gates?” Ereshkigal, the First Lady of the Underworld, mockingly laughed. “Choose.”

The left hand bobbed back and forth over the beautifully detailed and meaningless side of the cards. Something did not feel right. Feel? Blaine quietly commented, “Lives once lived. Lives yet to come. Everlasting love renews.”

Death sat back, and then Blaine’s middle finger of the right hand quickly bounced off a single card. From somewhere inside himself, Blaine heard the harmony of chimes striking to make music. Something akin to a memory flared between several barely noticeable layers, and Blaine saw himself staring up a curving staircase. His right hand suddenly thrust past the Reaper, where it joined with a hand outlined by a great flash of brilliance.

The Harvester let out a mournful sigh, and gnarled fingers picked up fine china. Brooding redness glared over the delicate edge of the cup at a dark, empty chair, and then Death sipped the contents. With deliberate care, a torn fingernail tapped the chosen card. Turning it over uncovered the Eight of Swords reversed.

**Finé**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, this tale has come to its completion. The boys have finally found their fame and happiness. There is so much, which may be said. Growing fame. Growing kids. Hints of a very different world. You have seen into their lives (as I see it). I could go on and fill in the holes of a seventy-year marriage of love and angst. However, like so many other stories, the imagination can add so much more than I could ever imagine. 
> 
> That said, I weaved mysticism into the tale, leaving much open to conjecture. Have I finished this adventure into the lives of Blaine and Kurt? No, I do not think so. I opened a door, and once opened, there is no going back. Please stay tuned. 
> 
> I would like to thank the creators, the cast and crew of Glee for weaving such a wonderful tale. You moved society with your efforts and opened doors many people who were too afraid to turn the knob. Thank you. 
> 
> Finally, I would like to thank those who have read my ramblings. I enjoyed writing this, and I hope you got as much pleasure reading it. I bow my head to all of you in gratitude.


End file.
